


The Tale of Jack

by DancingGrimm



Category: Jack and the Beanstalk (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Prostitution, Romance, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingGrimm/pseuds/DancingGrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and his mother are living close to the edge of poverty, but a strange encounter and a rather large surprise could lead to a change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another fairy tale remix that I posted over on AFF a couple of years ago. Enjoy :D

 

“Did it hurt?”

 

Jack paused in smoothing out his shirt and turned back to the bed. “’Scuse me?”

 

“Did it hurt? Because it was so big?”

 

“Oh! Yeah, it did.”

 

The man in the bed smiled smugly to himself and groped around on the sheets for his pants. Jack put on his shoes, then picked up the roll of bills from the card table in the corner and pocketed it. “I’m gonna go now okay?”

 

“Yeah sure,” the man replied through a yawn, and he swung his legs off the edge of the bed. Jack opened the door and headed for the motel lobby. Of course it hadn’t hurt; it’d been like getting stuck with a pencil stub. The girl behind the lobby desk looked warily at him as he left, as if she didn’t know what he’d been doing. That was the trouble with living in a small town; only one motel. Hell, only one prostitute as far as he was aware, at least there wasn’t anyone else doing this shit along with him.

 

What else was he supposed to do though? They needed the money. His mother was sick, he’d had to leave school early after his Dad died, and he had no time to get more education or work their little bit of land. Most of the jobs in the little town of Eastgate had been held by the same person for years. Nobody left, nobody new arrived, and there was nothing to do for one poor kid with no qualifications and a bad reputation.

 

When Dad had died, Jack and his mother had, at least, been left with their house and the two small fields behind it, both of which had belonged to the family for generations. But the stress of bereavement had taken its toll on his Mama, and a nasty case of pneumonia had developed into a lasting problem with her lungs, and she’d had to give up her job. They’d sold the fields to Mr McElgar, whose land bordered theirs, and that’d kept them going for a couple of years, but then the money had started to run out, the risk of losing their home started to loom, and Jack had gone to search for a job.

 

No school, no training, no experience…no luck.

In the end, the only thing he had that was worth anything was his body and his rep, which, surprisingly, hadn’t gotten that much worse since he’d started turning tricks. Thanks to a too-trusting confession of attraction to a classmate in high school, the whole town knew he was gay. The other student had been no problem; a happy, positive kind of guy, he’d just blithely thought Jack had been complementing him on his grades. But a teacher had overheard and decided to out him, in order to ‘allow other students to make informed decision about exposing themselves to unethical elements’, or some shit like that. And suddenly everyone was treating him like a sex offender. The excuse to leave school when Mama got ill was almost welcome.

 

The worst of it was, that same teacher was now one of his regular customers.

 

He walked through the quiet, dark streets towards home, the shadow of the forest rising up on the horizon beyond the edge of the farmland. The roads out this far had no streetlights, but he’d learned to make his way home in the pitch dark. Under his feet, the asphalt became gravel and the gravel became compacted earth, and then he was on the uneven flagstones of the little path that led to their front door.

 

Inside, the house was dark, except for a thin sliver of light coming from under the kitchen door. Jack checked his watch; 11.30, no way Mama would still be awake. He opened the door and saw a covered plate on the table, and just like that his day got better. Mama had not only felt well enough to eat, she’d felt well enough to make something so good she wanted him to have some. He lifted the cover; pasta in tomato sauce, with mushrooms and green peppers, which was one of their favourite dishes. They were practically vegetarian, as it was cheaper than eating meat. He picked up the plate to put it in the microwave, and did a little double take when he realised there was a folded piece of paper underneath it;

 

_“Hello honey, welcome home._

_I hope you like the food, I had a good day today and decided to throw it together. We can have it for dinner again tomorrow if you like, it was a big batch. Mr McElgar came and brought a bag of tomatoes for us._

_I’ve been looking at our books again this afternoon honey, and I’m afraid it looks like we’re going to have to sell the car. But don’t worry, I’m sure everything will work out. Dr Atieno stopped by for my check up and said that I’m going along okay. We can talk about it another time._

_I hope work went well. Eat up and have a good sleep my little darling, I’ll see you tomorrow._

_Love Mama.”_

 

Jack sighed. He’d told her he’d got a job at the packaging depot for a mail order store that was just outside of town. It broke his heart to lie to her, but he knew it would hurt her so much worse if she knew what he was really doing. She knew he was gay, but as far as she was concerned, he’d never had a proper boyfriend, so he was probably still a virgin. This way, at least she felt she could rest up and get better; otherwise she’d surely force herself to go back to work while she was still sick.

 

He took a quick shower while the pasta was heating up, scrubbing the acrid smell of aftershave and sex off his skin, then sat in the kitchen in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and ate his dinner ravenously. It was good, as his Mama’s cooking always was. Then, tired and full, he headed off to bed.

 

His bedroom, his since infancy, was still like that of a child, despite the fact that he was now twenty-two. Posters of football players, uniformed and bare-chested alike, were pasted on the wall opposite the bed, the bookcase held a scattering of models and action figures. There was even an old mobile, still hanging in front of the window, the pale moonlight glinting sullenly off the glossy shapes of leaves.

 

Tonight, as most nights, his thoughts took a sombre turn, lying there in the dark. In school, he’d had such high hopes for his life. Graduate certainly, even college if he got the grades. A real job somewhere, maybe something to do with animals, because he’d always loved them. And…love. He wanted a lover.

 

A week before, he’d gone to the local pharmacy for one of his Mama’s medications, but they’d run out, so he got in the car and went over to the nearest town, Denebrook, to get it from there. Walking along the High Street, feeling self conscious as always even though nobody knew him there, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks by the sight of a group of people on the other side of the street.

 

A tall, broad, dark haired man, was walking arm-in-arm with a slight red-haired guy, who in turn was holding the hand of a sweet looking elderly lady. They looked happy together, a man and his boyfriend and probably one of their relatives, just out enjoying themselves. Jack wasn’t the kind of guy to be prone to jealousy, but he thought right then that he would have killed or died to spend just a day like that. His Mama, and a man who loved him, strolling along a sunlit street.

 

His last thought as he fell asleep was of love.

 

*

 

“Mama, are you sure about this?”

 

“Sweetie, it makes perfect sense. How often do we use that car now anyway? We never go any further than Denebrook or Green Meadow, and there are busses there all the time. We need the money.”

 

“I know, but…”

 

“But what, Jack? What if I need to be rushed to hospital or something? What if I need medicine in an emergency?”

 

Jack looked at her, briefly thought about saying yes, then decided against it.

 

“You never know when there’ll be an emergency,” he replied diplomatically.

 

“I know, and I know you worry about me. But really, there’s no good reason not to sell it.”

 

Jack nodded, feeling a little hopeless. One by one, they were selling off all their possessions of any worth.

 

“Oh yeah,” he asked, suddenly remembering her note. “What did Dr Atieno say, exactly?”

 

“Oh, you know. I’m no worse, but it’ll take time before I get better. Same as he always says. There’s still that procedure that he thinks would work, but…”

 

“We can’t afford it,” Jack finished, smiling despite himself. Dr Atieno was a good guy, he’d done his best to find ways to help Mama out, but there was only so much he could do.

 

“Okay Mama, I’ll take the car into town and see what the people at the second hand places say.”

 

“Thank you sweetheart. I know all this is tough on you, but it’ll turn out okay. You know that, right?”

 

Jack nodded, smiled, and leaned forward from his seat on the edge of her bed to hug her.

 

*

 

Six hours later, Jack pulled the car into a parking space in Main Street, got out, slammed the door, and kicked the kerbstone as hard as he could. A whole damned day spent going back and forth between car dealers, trying desperately to get anybody to take the fucking car! All the places in Eastgate would take at look at it and stick their nose in the air, or take a look at him and decide that the back of the car was unhygienic or something, because either they’d screwed him – in a bed! - or they knew somebody who had.

 

It was so fucking unfair!

 

So he’d gone further afield, but all the dealers in Denebrook and Green Meadow had no time for a twenty year old car with scratched paint.

 

Jack sat on the bonnet and put his head in his hands. If his Mama was so set on selling the car, it was surely because they had serious money problems, she wouldn’t do it lightly. So if he couldn’t sell it, that meant they were reliant on money from his ‘job’. There were only so many men in Eastgate who were interested in fucking him. So what, go further afield? One of his regulars said he would pay more if Jack didn’t make him use a condom…no, he couldn’t. But if it was the only way…

 

“Excuse me young man?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Jack was shocked out of his reverie by the voice coming from very close quarters, and was astonished, when he lifted his head, to see that a man was standing right at his elbow. Not a man he recognised, this guy was dressed in tidy, refined looking clothes, old fashioned and very neat. His suit was dark green and had a long-tailed jacket, like something from a historical movie. He was maybe middle aged, but trim and quite handsome.

 

“I understand you’re selling-”

 

Jack got to his feet, suddenly all too aware that he looked a mess, made an abortive attempt to look sexy, and ended up giving the man a rueful smile.

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

“The car. I believe you’re selling your car,” the man clarified with a sympathetic, knowing expression. Jack immediately felt mortified and put one hand over his eyes.

 

“Don’t worry there. No harm done. Only, I was interested in buying it. What are you asking?”  
  
“Uh…really?”

 

Knowing half-smile again. “Really. I rather like old cars.”

 

“Umm…make me an offer, I guess,” Jack replied uncertainly.

 

The man ducked his head a moment to chuckle and Jack felt a fool. But still, “What would you say to, oh, two hundred dollars?”

 

“Sure!” He probably should have haggled, but that was about the most money he’d dared to hope for.

 

A shiny leather wallet was produced from inside that odd jacket, and the man took out two notes, and handed them over. Jack had never even seen a hundred dollar bill before, and now there were two of them, crisp and slightly rough in his hand. He pushed them into his own battered wallet, shoved it into his pocket and rushed to open the door, grabbing the card folder with all the papers inside. The man accepted the folder, went through it, signed what was necessary, handed the appropriate documents back to Jack and accepted the keys with a pleasant smile.

 

“Would you like me to drive you home?”

 

“Thanks, but I like to walk.”

 

“Quite admirably healthy, I’m sure,” replied the man, and he climbed into the car, looking completely out of place in his eccentric clothes, started the engine and drove away. And Jack was left in the darkening street, two hundred dollars filling out his wallet, and a now useless old key chain in the shape of a letter ‘J’ jingling in his pocket.

 

It was getting towards dusk now, the air getting cooler, and it was high time for him to get home and give Mama the good news. His feet felt lighter along the path tonight, and as he approached the house he saw light coming from the front door, could hear the radio playing inside. He felt like hugging himself. Standing on his own doorstep, trying to figure out the best way to tell her, the most fun way, the biggest surprise…he should have the money in hand, show it to her. He took out his wallet, slipped out the notes…

 

Not notes.

 

There was one sheet of paper, old and rough feeling, folded to about the size of a note. He couldn’t do anything but stare at it for a moment. It was…it was impossible. There was no way the man could have switched it. No way at all.

 

Dropping the folded paper, he pulled open his wallet and rooted through it. The money from the guy he’d gone with last night had mostly been given to Mama that morning, just five dollars left, and a receipt from the place he’d bought a sandwich for lunch…nothing.

 

No money.

 

No car.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, his mind numb with shock and misery, when the sound of Mama shutting off the radio and switching off the light snapped him out of it. It was fully dark outside, Mama was going to bed.

 

He picked up the paper and put it back into his jeans pocket, then opened the door.

 

“Jack?” came Mama’s worried voice from her bedroom.

 

“Yeah Mama, just me. No luck today.”

 

She opened the door of her room, wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown.

 

“Really? Well…never mind honey.”

 

“I’ll go try again tomorrow.”

 

“Okay. Goodnight. There’s some dinner on the table, ‘kay?”

 

“Okay Mama. Thanks.” He kissed her cheek and she went back in the room.

 

Why had he told her that? What the hell was he going to do? No car, no money, no way to get it back, and nothing else to sell. Jack went into his room and changed out of his clothes, put on old sweats and sat on the bed.

 

Cried for a while, quietly, so as not to wake Mama.

 

She’d worry even more if he didn’t eat, so he went in the kitchen and ate the food she’d left out for him, but it sat in his stomach like a brick.

 

Feeling hopeless and cold inside, he went to bed.

 

*

 

The next morning, he got out of the house before Mama was awake, leaving a note to explain that he’d gone out to have another try at selling the car. Maybe if he got the bus out to Green Meadow, gauged the place to see if he could get a little more work around there. A lot of rich people lived there, and there was always somebody willing and ready to pay money for a decent looking young man…

 

He was trudging along the path into town, the fresh morning sun warming his back, when it occurred to him to look at the paper the guy had switched the money for. His fingers slid it out of the wallet, shook a little as he unfolded it and smoothed it out. It was thick, worn feeling paper of an uneven yellowish-brown colour. Jack, on some level, had maybe been hoping for a message, some kind of explanation… but no. It was a drawing. Trees and lines, a couple of buildings and a four-pointed star in the top corner…

 

Holy crap, it was a map!

 

He wasn’t so much of a kid to think it was a treasure map or anything, but still, it was interesting. He turned so that the compass at the top of the diagram was lined up with the true directions, glancing at the position of the sun to make sure he was accurate, and took a better look.

 

There, that was a road…and a pond, or maybe a lake…and these were fields. Not any fields though, those were Mr McElgar’s fields. Previously Jack’s parents fields. He was sure of it!

 

So then the road was the one that led through the woods towards Denebrook…and that path coming off was the one that led down towards the river…but then another path branched off from that. One that he’d never seen before. It appeared to end at a tree, a tree drawn far larger than the others on the map.

 

Jack had some serious thinking to do. May as well do it in the woods. If he did go over to Green Meadow it wouldn’t be until evening, after all, and by then he might have come up with a better idea.

 

As soon as his feet got him to the Denebrook road, he turned off the main street and headed off into the woods.

 

 

*

 

The path was…weird. Jack had walked along the path to the river hundreds of times over the course of his life and he’d never seen this new, narrow path branching off before. But there it was. The bare, compacted earth was red-brown and scattered with pale pebbles. Boughs of trees and branches of bracken hung over its edges, making it clear that it hadn’t been walked much recently.

 

The road less travelled indeed.

 

Jack took one last look at the map, made his mind up and set off.

 

The low branches swept against his shins as he walked, swinging back behind him as he brushed past them, the rattle of the leaves soothing to his ears. The sunlight dappled on the path in front of him, shifting and swooping like the surface of the sea. It was a beautiful day; if not for the weight of worry on his shoulders, Jack would have felt like he was in paradise.

 

On the map, it didn’t look like the path was particularly long; maybe a kilometre or so, certainly not much more. But what was at the end, that was the question on his mind. The huge tree pictured was drawn, not only on a different scale to the others, but to a different pattern. The other trees were jagged pines and lollipop oaks, scattered cheerfully like a children’s drawing. The one at the end of his path however was mostly a huge trunk, a little trail of dashes spiralling around it. A few leaf-bedecked branches stuck out from its top, but…it didn’t look that tree-like.

 

Then Jack looked up from the map…

and there it was.

 

It was so damn tall he could barely believe it. All he could see of the branches was the vague shape of them against the sky when he looked up. He couldn’t even conceive of how tall it must be. And the trunk…

 

He looked again at the map. Yes, that little trail of dashes did look kind of like a staircase.

 

He looked again at the tree. Yep. Stairs. All the way up, as far as Jack could see.

 

“Fucking weird,” Jack murmured to himself. But still, his feet carried him forward. The bottom step was narrow, barely the width of Jack’s own body, and so shallow he wouldn’t be able to fit his whole foot on it without turning it side on. There was no hand rail – well of course not, it was a tree – nothing at all to hold on to. Pretty scary prospect, given how high the spiralling steps went.

 

Jack began to climb.

 

*

 

After the first few circuits of the tree’s vast trunk, which Jack figured equal to around three stories up, he was just finding his pace, lightly trailing the palm of his left hand against the trunk as he went.

 

After a few dozen such circuits he was getting a little out of breath. Pleasantly so though; it felt cleansing, like going jogging after a shitty day.

 

After around half an hour of walking, he glanced to his right and saw treetops, from above, all around him. It occurred to him on some level that he shouldn’t actually be able to see treetops from that angle, ever, as they should always be above him, and also that there wasn’t enough room on the steps for him to be able to turn around should he wish. But somehow neither of these problems troubled him. He kept climbing.

 

At a certain height, the air became strangely misty and water started to bead and gather on his skin, soaking into his clothes. It occurred to him that he was walking up through the clouds. Again, the situation didn’t quite penetrate further into his brain than the shallowest level, and he kept climbing.

 

As cloudy and vague as his consciousness had become over the course of his journey, it took him a few moments to realise that he had reached the top. Looking around, it registered in his mind that he had no idea how long he’d been climbing. The sunlight around him was as bright and clear as it had been when he’d left the house, but the misty air hid the position of the sun strangely. Looking down he couldn’t quite make out where his shadow lay. All around him was a thick sheet of cloud, laying level…almost as if it lay on the ground. In fact, that was exactly what it looked like. Despite it being entirely impossible, Jack almost felt that, if he were to put out his foot and step off the stair on which he now stood, he would find himself on a solid surface.

 

This strange impression was only strengthened when he noticed the house.

 

Or, perhaps, cottage would be a better term for it. An old-fashioned looking little one-storey building, battered and old but seemingly sturdy. The light was having the strangest effect on Jack’s eyes; it appeared that the building was some distance away, and yet it had to be nearby, considering how large it appeared. And damn it, how in hell was a house up here in the sky anyway? Jack shook his head to try and clear his thoughts, and as he did a cool drift of a breeze swept past him and ruffled away the cloud from around his feet, revealing…ground.

 

Fresh soil, scattered with grass here and there. As he stood and watched, the wind cleared the cloud, little by little, until Jack could see the path worn to the front of the house between what looked like recently planted fields. Looking down, it seemed that he now stood on a protrusion from the trunk of some kind of stunted, thick-trunked tree that could have been growing from that spot for a hundred years. Gathering his nerve, he stepped down and…found his foot firmly on solid ground.

 

Amazing!

 

Looking back at the tree he’d climbed, he saw the cloud seemed to have gathered thickly around the tree, making it impossible to see the gap he must have come up through. So, that left him with onwards and upwards. Or onwards rather, as it seemed he’d done upwards as much as he could.

 

The house appeared to be quiet, no lights on, but then it was a bright day. The place seemed to be in fairly good repair though, and there was no harm in knocking on the door. So Jack set his feet to the path.

 

The fields he walked past were just showing sprouts of green above the surface of the soil. On one side, Jack recognised the leaves of carrots and cabbages, on the other were the beginnings of what he thought might be corn. They were growing pretty big though, bigger than anything Jack and his Dad had ever gotten out of their land. The house seemed to be further away than he’d first thought; maybe it was bigger than he’d believed. But how big would anyone ever build a one story cottage?

 

He got his answer when he finally got as far as the front door. It was several times his own height; he couldn’t have reached the handle with a ladder.

 

It was…strange. But at that point, for Jack, it was just the latest strange thing in a long list, and he was really more curious than anything else. What the hell was with this house!?!

 

“Hello?” he yelled, as loud as he could. There was no response. As far as Jack could perceive, the building was empty.

 

He felt pretty dumb to be doing it, but he knocked on the door; the wood was so heavy it barely made a sound. So, how to get into a giant house.

 

The letter box? Jack pushed aside the question of _why_ there was a letter box, given how…out of the way the house was. But it was there, a little old-fashioned, verdigris-covered brass one, near the floor. Jack gave it a push; no spring or anything, it just swung open.

 

Jack clambered in; perfect fit. Well, a little small. He was out of breath by the time he tumbled into the room. Inside, the cottage was rustic to the point of being…medieval. Or something like that.

 

A cast iron stove stood in one corner with a scarred wooden table next to it, a wooden framed bed in another corner and a large wardrobe next to it. There was a big bathtub, also cast iron and a water pump was visible outside one of the small windows. And everything, absolutely everything, was on the same scale; fucking massive.

 

It didn’t make any sense. He climbed a tree, found a house in the clouds, and everything was…giant.

 

Or could it be…was he smaller? Had he shrunk? How in hell was he going to get back to normal?

 

And then the door opened, and the resident of the house walked in. And suddenly, all of Jack’s worries seemed like nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

 

The door swung open with a damp-sounding creak and a figure filled the frame, an enormously tall man, big even by the scale of the house in which Jack stood. The floor boards trembled at his footsteps as he strode into the room.

 

For crucial seconds, Jack was frozen in shock – then with a surge of hot energy up his back, he took to his heels and headed for the nearest cover he could see. The bedclothes hung off the edges of the low bed frame, if he could just get under there and hide until it went away-

 

“Mother Mary!”

 

Jack kept running, hoping against hope that something else had caught the giant man’s attention, but just as he got under the edge of the blanket, into the low, dusty space under the bed he felt the _thud_ in the floorboards as the man dropped to his knees behind him.

 

“Oh God! Oh God!” he breathed. He damn near ran into the wall on the other side of the bed, the bed slats inches above his head, piles of folded clothes to either side of him, penning him in. In the dim space, he could see the shape of the man, kneeling and curled over to peer under the edge of the bed frame, searching for him. He stayed still; maybe if he stayed still enough, and quiet enough, it would convince him that he’d seen a mouse or something. A bipedal mouse that talked but-

 

“I see you, little one. Don’t worry now,” came the resonant voice, and the huge man stuck one arm under the bed, reaching with horrible accuracy for Jack. There was a little gap between the wall and a huge pile of what looked like blankets, and he squirmed into it, feeling the air squeeze out of his lungs as he forced his upper body into the space, but it was too late!

 

Fingers thicker than his arms closed around his right leg and pulled; it must have only been a gentle tug, all things considered, but it felt like his hip was going to pop out of joint. He clenched his hands into the blanket, held on as tight as he could, until another little tug on his leg pulled his grip free, and he was pulled back from under the bed, into the shafts of sunlight gleaming through the window. The grip of that huge hand shifted to wrap around his waist and, as he blinked in the harsh light, the other hand came to cup underneath him, lifting him several stories into the air as the giant man rose to his feet.

 

Shaking and struggling to breathe through terror, Jack forced himself to look at the being that now had him in its grasp. The hands that held him were huge and rough skinned. The massive man’s physique was broad and powerful and his body was clad in dull-coloured clothes made from coarse cloth, which looked like they’d been wrapped around him rather than sewn. His face…his face would have been quite good looking, probably, if it hadn’t been staring down at Jack with bald curiosity while he was trapped in those immense hands. His skin was deeply tanned and his shaggy, wavy hair was black. His brown eyes raked Jack’s body with a look of curiosity, of astonishment of…joy?

 

“Wow,” he breathed. “He was telling the truth.”

 

“Please don’t kill me!” Jack blurted, then clapped both hands over his mouth. Oh shit, what if he’d just upset it?

Him?

 

“I’m…well, alright, I’m not going to kill you,” the giant said, his voice like the sound of explosions in Jack’s ears. “Umm…are you alright?”

 

Jack nodded, then nodded harder when it occurred to him that the giant man might not be able to see the gesture.

 

“I’m going to put you down here, alright little one?”

 

Jack glanced in the direction they were now moving and realised they were heading for the table. He was set down, a little clumsily, on the slightly uneven wooden surface, and the giant man turned away to open the cabinet against the wall nearby. Jack wasn’t sure what to do. Was he in danger? Was he about to get…what? Eaten? Tortured? He sat up on the table and looked around for a way out, but unless he could get off the table he had no chance and, creeping over to the edge, he saw he was at least two storeys up. No way in hell.

 

“Careful there, little one,” came that massive voice again, and he was scooped back into the centre of the table. Shaking now, he watched the huge man walk back across the room to the large cabinet, take out a bottle, glance back at Jack, then take a swig. Whatever was in the bottle, it must have been strong, because it made the man scrunch his eyes up and grunt.

 

He glanced back at Jack briefly, as if he were checking he was still there, took another quick pull from the bottle, then put it back in the cabinet and grabbed a chair. As he dragged it toward the table, Jack shrank back, and as the man sat down he couldn’t help but flinch at the scrape of the chair and the slight tremor of the table top.

Elbows on the table edge, the man leaned forward, apparently content for the time being for Jack to be on the other side of the table.

 

“Where did you come from, little one?”

 

“…Jack. I…”

 

“Jack? That’s your name?” He was speaking rather more quietly than before, but his voice still seemed to shake the very air.

Jack nodded.

 

“My name is Finn. Now, not that you’re not welcome, but…ah… how did you get here?”

 

“U-up the giant tree.”

 

The man – Finn – raised his eyebrows at that.

 

“Really? That old stump at the bottom of the fields?”

 

Jack thought carefully, and realised that the tree he’d climbed had been the only one visible above the clouds, apart from a couple of spindly fruit trees behind the house. He nodded again.

 

“Well…how, lad?”

 

“It…there’s more of it. Under the clouds…or the ground…I don’t really understand it.” His arms and legs were trembling now.

 

“What year is it where you come from?”

 

What? Jack told him. Finn tilted his head and squinted, like he was trying to make sense of the number.

 

“You know, I don’t really recall what year it was when I left, so I really can’t work it out,” he said contemplatively.

 

 _What_?

 

The man stood and walked to the door, stuck his head out and looked around. Sighed, and came back to sit at the table.

 

“I don’t know what I expected to see,” he confessed, smiling slightly.

 

Jack laughed a little at that. Then laughed a little more, and before he knew it he was wheezing and clutching his stomach. Panic. Panic was bad, but he couldn’t stop it, it hit him like an electric shock. Flickering shadows were appearing at the edges of his vision and he toppled sideways onto the table top, struggling for breath.

 

Making a tutting, shushing noise, weirdly like Dr Atieno, the man – Finn – reached over and scooped Jack up between his hands, and Jack let out a scream, finally giving in and freaking out!

 

Those massive hands cupped around him and he did his best to lash out, kicking and thrashing, clawing at the skin, but it was no use, he was just being held there…and then the front of his body was wholly pressed against warm fabric and he realised the giant was holding him to his chest…which was actually…

 

Out of breath and with tears on his face, Jack felt himself start to calm down. It seemed he wasn’t in immediate danger of death. He could hope, at least.

 

“Okay, little Jack?” Finn asked, and his voice rumbled right the way through Jack’s body. The fabric of his shirt felt like it had been woven from rope. He was lifted away from Finn’s chest and held up, again in cupped hands. Finn studied him carefully.

 

“Why don’t I tell you what I’m talking about, alright?”

 

Jack nodded. Deep breaths, now.

 

He was placed back on the table, his limbs still trembling, and Finn turned away, towards the bed this time. Jack shut his eyes and took a couple more deep, careful breaths, wondering if this was how Mama had felt when she had pneumonia. He heard Finn come back to the table, and when he opened his eyes again, the giant was placing a wadded up piece of fabric on the wooden surface.

 

“More comfy,” he said simply, and Jack realised that Finn meant for him to sit on the cloth. He got up and looked; no idea what the cloth was supposed to be, but then again, Finn’s clothes were more or less carefully draped sheets, so this rectangle of rough fabric could have been anything. Tentatively, he got to his feet and walked over to look. Finn had scrunched up the fabric and then punched it down in the middle. It looked kind of like a bean bag chair. He sat down; it was indeed more comfortable than the table top, even if the fabric did feel as rough as an elephant’s backside.

 

Finn had gone back to his cabinet and now returned to his seat, carrying a plate with an apple, a small bowl and a knife on it. He studied Jack for a moment, then smiled warmly.

 

“Better?”

 

“Yeah, th-thanks,” Jack replied. _Bite the bullet_ , he told himself. _Just…assume the best. He’s most likely not going to kill me_. He determinedly kept his eyes away from the knife as Finn set the plate down on the table. The blade was well kept and about as long as Jack was tall. Not looking at it, definitely.

 

“I’ll start from the beginning, shall I?” Finn asked casually. He’d set the bowl down to Jack’s left, and was now slicing the apple up on the plate, every thud of the knife on the thick, old china making the table tremor. Jack just nodded.

 

“I used to live … in a normal place, you know? I was about the same size as you too, just…normal.” He stopped for a moment and frowned at the apple, chopped at it a little more, then sighed.

 

“What happened?” Jack asked quietly, after a few seconds.

 

Finn blinked slowly at him, then smiled again and reached out to hand him a tiny piece of apple flesh; he’d managed to cut it so thin it was translucent, and it was about the size of a slice of bread in Jack’s hands. As soon as he took hold of it, his hands were coated in juice.

 

“Thanks,” he said quietly, and Finn nodded, before picking up an apple wedge that Jack could have hollowed out for a canoe and biting it in half with a muffled crunch.

 

“I was a bastard,” Finn continued. “Not literally, my parents were married. But I was an asshole, absolutely unforgivable. I lived in the city and I was always…well, big. Normal big. You know what I mean?”

 

Jack nodded and took a bite out of his apple, the juice running down his chin.

 

“Well, I got involved with a bunch of criminal types. Proper low lifes. They wanted to rule the whole city, get everyone under their thumb, and they nearly succeeded. But…nearly is a bad word in that situation, they got in the shit and I left them behind. Decided to myself that they’d come at it the wrong way. My plan was to get control over a smaller town, then work my way up. Sensible, right?”

 

Jack faltered. He didn’t want to agree, but if he didn’t, would-

 

“I’m not going to harm you if you disagree with me, little Jack. I told you, this was years ago and I was a fool. I know it was a stupid idea.” He was smiling kindly as he said it. Jack just nodded and kept nibbling at his apple slice.

 

“So, I got to this little town and established myself. Or at least I tried. See, my problem was that I always thought I deserved more than anyone else, hell of a chip on my shoulder. So even when I was doing something terrible, I convinced myself that it was warranted. It was great at first, I was getting whatever I wanted, and people were less…savvy than in the city, they didn’t see stuff coming. I loved it.

 

“It was all going okay, more or less. I had the right people bribed, the right people scared of me, enough people under me that I could have eyes everywhere, not so many they were hard to manage. But then I didn’t know where to go from there. I was just still a kid really, I had no idea how to take things further. Drugs and extortion and that kind of …nonsense, I had no real idea of.

 

“And then, this guy in a green suit turned up.”

 

Jack gasped

 

“You alright?” Finn asked. “That went down well, didn’t it.”

 

Jack looked down and only then realised that he’d finished the piece of apple off. His hands were coated with juice to the wrist. Finn dipped the spoon into the bowl and delicately set it on the table in front of Jack, being careful not to spill any of the lukewarm water it held. Jack eased himself out of his nest of fabric and washed his hands, offering Finn a careful smile as he did so.

 

Finn dipped his own sticky hands in the bowl, wiped them on his clothes, then put his elbows on the table, rested his chin in his palms and sighed.

 

“I did a lot of crap I’m ashamed of, now that I’ve got some perspective. I say to myself, I never did anything really that terrible. I never killed anyone, I never raped anyone, never did much that would really…stop a person, you know? But it was only a matter of time until I did. But that…weird bastard…he just turned up in my house one night. I damn near went for him with my knife, but he waved his hands and suddenly I couldn’t move. He told me he was angry with me, and I was going to get what I’d earned. He said I had some lessons to learn, and until I’d learned them, I’d be without what I valued the most.”

 

He went quiet for a moment, and Jack was curious enough to push aside his fear and ask; “What?”

 

Finn gave him a ruthful smile. “Money. Fear. Ordering people around, and…” He sighed. “No people up here, no…stuff. Just me and a bunch of fields.”

 

“Why-” Jack abruptly realised that the question he’d wanted to ask would probably be going too far, and snapped his mouth shut.

 

“Why am I so big?” Jack nodded.

 

“About…psh, I dunno, a couple of months maybe, after he stuck me here, he came back to see how I was doing and I went for him. Attacked him. He told me that I’d have to get over myself, in no uncertain terms. I wasn’t the big man any longer. He knocked me out with something, and when I woke up;” he gestured vaguely at his own body, and Jack nodded again.

 

“As punishments go, it was pretty good. I’d managed to scrape together enough food from the fields, but suddenly I needed about a hundred times as much of it. So I didn’t have time to be pissed off and self-righteous. I was too busy trying to keep body and soul together, trying to cut enough wood to get a roof over my head. Gradually, the plants seemed to get bigger, or, well, at the time I wasn’t sure if I was getting smaller…every now and then he’d leave me something, like tools and the pump, but all the rest, I was on my own. Except for the goose…”

 

He trailed off there, and Jack was left looking around for signs of a goose, wondering if it were a real one. Or a giant real one.

 

He sighed gustily, and gave Jack another smile, this one slightly forced. “I really don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why you’re here, I don’t know how long _I’m_ going to be here…Talk about something else for a while, eh? Tell me about yourself, Jack.”

 

“I…” What did you say in a situation like this? Jack’s mind, spaced out from several different layers of shock, went blank.

 

“I…I guess really, I’m…”

 

Finn nodded, apparently quite content to let Jack take his time.

 

“I live with my Mama. She’s sick a lot. So I work. As a…a…”

 

“A what?”

 

“I’m a whore,” Jack said. First time he’d said it out loud, ever. His voice was as faint as a ghost, but Finn clearly heard it; his eyebrows raised and his mouth was open.

 

“Seriously?”

 

Jack nodded. Finn leaned down a little closer to him, leaning his elbows on the edge of the table.

 

“I suppose I can see it, you’re…well you’ve a nice look to you. You don’t seem to be too happy about it though.”

 

Jack shrugged. “Who would be?”

 

Finn laughed a little. “You’re right. I’ve never heard a good story that ended in prostitution. That what it takes to look after your mother?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, I doubt there’s a person alive who could fault you for that, then.”

 

Jack looked at Finn’s face; he didn’t seem to be kidding around. “I…do my best.”

 

“Yeah, you’re a nice kid,” Finn replied. Again, no kidding. He seemed so confident in his assertion. Jack actually felt a little brighter.

 

“It’s not easy,” he found himself saying. “Everyone seems to think they know everything about me, just because I have to have sex with people to make money. Just because I didn’t finish school. Most of them either treat me like shit or ignore me…at least until they decide they want to get laid.”

 

Finn nodded, watching his face sagely, squinting a little to be able to see him properly.

 

“You know something?” It was all coming out now, now somebody was listening. “I lost my…my virginity to a customer.” God, that had been hard to say. “I never had sex with anyone who wasn’t paying me. And it…it…okay, I don’t expect to be in love or anything, but Jesus, I just want to have sex with somebody who _likes_ me, you know?”

 

“I can understand that.”

 

Jack wasn’t really crying, but he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and hoped that Finn didn’t notice.

 

“This whole thing, it’s got to be the strangest thing that ever happened to me,” he said.

 

“What, ending up here? With me?”

 

“Yeah. What if I’m up here forever? I got here because this guy in a green suit fooled me and gave me a map, which I thought was money…and I got here, but after I got off the steps, they disappeared! What if it’s the same guy, and, and, he doesn’t like me because of what I do?”

 

Finn sighed. “Well, from what I know of him, he’s not the type to give somebody a punishment without giving them a good, loud telling off first. Maybe he just wanted to give you a scare or something.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Don’t worry too much. Worst comes to the worst, there’s plenty of food up here, and you’ll be safe until we can work out how to get you back to your mother. As long as I don’t step on you, that is.”

 

“Maybe I’ll just stay up here then. Let you do all the heavy work, I’ll just keep the crumbs off the table.” He offered a weak little smile and wiped at his eyes again.

 

“Yeah, won’t be so bad. Nice to have somebody to talk to,” and the look in Finn’s eyes was so…worn out that Jack just had to make some kind of…

 

“You want to, y’know, do something?”

 

Overture, if that was the word.

 

Finn grinned. He sat back in his chair a little, squinted at Jack, looked deliberately down the length of his own body, and sniggered.

 

“What exactly would you propose we do, little Jack?” he asked, smiling broadly.

 

“Well,” now Jack felt like an idiot, but no way was he going to just forget it. “I wasn’t going to suggest that we actually…actually…”

 

“Insert-”

 

“Yeah, put anything anywhere. I mean, I’d die and I doubt you’d enjoy it that much either.”

 

Finn let out an ear-splitting bark of laughter that Jack thought, for a moment, would bring the rafters down.

 

Jack smiled up at him, and kicked his shoes off.

 

“What are you thinking, little man?” Finn asked, leaning down again to watch him as he started to wriggle out of his t-shirt.

 

“I dunno,” Jack replied, getting the garment over his head. “But hey, you’re lonely, I’m completely freaked out and in need of calming down, and…I kind of like you, you know?”

 

Finn studied him for a moment. Smiled, not the grin this time, but a softer smile. He got it.

 

Jack got naked pretty quickly, he’d had a lot of practise after all, and Finn unwrapped his layers until he was bare-chested. Jack assumed he’d taken off the rest of his clothes, but the big guy was still in his chair and Jack didn’t have the angle to see. Didn’t really matter, heavens knew he didn’t need to be made to feel ‘insufficient’ on top of the rest of his problems.

 

Naked as the day he was born, he flopped back into the pad of fabric, very aware of the fact that Finn was enjoying the view.

 

“Here,” Finn said gently, and reached to lift Jack’s upper body gently with his right hand. He leaned his left forearm on the table, which put him leaning over Jack slightly, leaving Jack reclining back against his warm, hairy arm. Jack smiled at him and made himself comfortable, let his thoughts trail along the usual path it took to get himself aroused. Except…his body seemed to be one step ahead of him there. Finn’s warm, apple scented breath sweeping over him blew all thoughts of the wax-chested models pasted on the walls of his bedroom from his head.

 

He curled himself up a little, relaxed back against Finn’s warm arm and lifted his knees, letting his legs spread. Finn tipped his head to one side a little, gave him a soft smile.

 

“Pretty.”

 

“Thanks,” Jack replied, and put his hand around his cock.

 

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he stroked, watching Finn’s gaze become unfocused and the rangy muscles of his upper arm shift as he touched himself under the cover of the table.

 

Jack touched slowly, not too hard, just let himself relax against Finn’s arm and enjoy it. Just purely enjoy it, after so long of sex being work and work being sex…it was so good. The air between them was starting to feel hot and musky, and sweat broke out on Jack’s chest, trickling down his stomach.

 

“So pretty, little Jack…” Finn murmured, and to Jack’s astonishment, that sent a sudden wave of arousal through him, making him gasp and arch back. Finn’s arm was moving faster now, and Jack matched his own movements to it, short, sharp strokes that made it feel like he was only seconds away, only millimetres, only a breath away…

 

He grit his teeth when he came, but still a cry escaped, strained and tense sounding, and at the same moment Finn heaved in a deep breath, as if he was going to capture Jack’s pleasure-noise in his own lungs.

 

The tendons in the arm Jack was draped against became suddenly hard as Finn clenched his fist. His dark eyes were tightly closed, breath hissing between his teeth, and then he was gasping, shuddering as he came too, the sound of semen slapping onto the floor just discernable over the noise of his breathing.

 

Finn opened his eyes and Jack smiled up at him, flinched slightly when a drop of sweat from Finn’s forehead splashed down onto his thigh.

 

“Sorry,” Finn murmured.

 

“S’okay,” Jack replied, “Enjoy yourself?”

 

Big, big smile. Like, big even for a normal person. “Yeah.”

 

“Me too.”

 

They just stayed there for long minutes, enjoying being close to each other, until finally Finn rose from his seat and turned to the cabinet. He picked up another bowl, then took a heavy porcelain jug from the lid of the stove and poured out some slightly steaming water. Returning to the table with a cloth draped over one arm, he set the bowl down and offered Jack his left index finger. Jack grabbed on and pulled himself to his feet.

 

“Bath?” Finn offered.

 

“Great,” Jack replied, and padded over to the bowl, standing on tiptoe to peer over the side. Finn brushed the tip of his finger against Jack’s stomach, then stared at it carefully, and it took Jack a moment to realise that he was looking at drops of his semen. He was still trying to come up with something witty to say when Finn raised the finger to his mouth and licked it.

 

Jack felt his face go red.

 

“I wish I could bake that taste into bread, or something,” Finn mused with a sigh, and Jack couldn’t help it; he cracked up.

 

“Don’t make fun!” Finn said with mock sternness. “I’ve been lonely a long time, I’m a sad man!” And with that he picked Jack up around the waist and stuck him in the bowl of water.

 

Still giggling, Jack happily swooshed around in the warm water, slapping his palms on the surface to make it splash. Finn watched him for a moment, then shook his head fondly, and turned to get another cloth and some more water. Jack dunked himself under the surface and briefly scrubbed his fingers through his hair, and when he came back up, Finn was washing himself down, standing next to the table.

 

He had a great body, no doubt due to all his hard work farming his land. He was muscular, but not too heavy, and his skin was the same nice tan shade all over. Jack glanced at his groin and saw that, even proportionally, he was pretty well hung.

 

He could still feel the touch of Finn’s fingertip against his stomach, and knew he’d be feeling it for a long time to come.

 

*

 

By the time Finn had washed and put his clothing back on, the water in the bowl was starting to cool, and Jack was only too glad to clamber out with Finn’s assistance. Finn had spread the other cloth on the table for him, and he spent a minute just lying on it, air drying, before lifting up a corner of it to rub his hair dry.

 

Finn moved around the room a little, then sat down next to the table again, and leaned over him looking slightly concerned.

 

“I just had a look out the window, and…something’s happened to that tree.”

 

“What?”

 

“I think…I’m not sure, but I think you could climb back down it.”

 

“Seriously?” Relief shot through him like an arrow and he grabbed up his clothes, dragging them hastily into place on his still damp body.

 

“I’m glad. I’d hate to think your poor mother would be without you,” Finn said sincerely, and when Jack looked up at his face, his dark eyes were sad…almost mournful.

 

“I…I’m sorry to leave you up here, but I’ve got to go back.”

 

“’Course you do, don’t say you’re-”

 

“I had a great time with you. Thank you.”

 

Finn smiled. “Yeah, me too.” He glanced over at the big cabinet and a slightly awkward look came over his face. “Listen, I know you said you were sick of making money for sex, and I get that. So…don’t be offended, but…you’re having money troubles, right?”

 

Jack nodded, feeling his shoulders slump. Worse than ever, now the car was gone.

 

“So, would you like…not payment, but…maybe a gift?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Finn got to his feet and opened one of the bottom drawers of the cabinet, taking out a small, flat wooden box. Returning to the table with it, he set it down and opened the lid, removing first a piece of fabric, then a layer of white paper. Jack walked over to look inside, and gasped.

 

“Are those...what are those?”

 

“Coins, I think. Old ones,” Finn replied. “I sometimes find them in the soil here, stuck in the mud when I clean my boots. I rinse them and kept them, thought they might be handy. Don’t know how they got to be here, but…there they are. I imagine they’re worth a fair amount.”

 

He pinched up some of the thick, golden discs, like grains of salt between his fingers, and offered them to Jack.

 

“I can’t…I…they’re yours!”

 

“What can I possibly use them for? Please, take them. It’ll help you and…maybe I just want to give you a gift.”

 

One of the coins slipped from Finn’s fingers and Jack caught it. It was about twice the size of a quarter and strangely heavy.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“I’m sure,” and Finn let go of them, letting them tumble into Jack’s cupped hands, a few thumping onto the table top. “Just remember, a gift, not a payment.”

 

“Like I could forget,” Jack grinned, and started packing the coins into his pockets, suddenly very glad that he’d worn baggy jeans.

“Thank you, Finn.”

 

“Welcome, little Jack.”

 

Jack stood up on his tiptoes and Finn leaned down for a kiss on the cheek, and then Jack was scooped up and carried, out the door and down the path between the fields, back to the towering shape of the old tree.

 

Finn set him down and straight away he could see the steps leading down the trunk, back to the real world.

 

He turned back.

 

“I…if I can come back, I will. Okay?”

 

Finn nodded. “Just be careful.”

 

Jack gave him one last smile, and headed down the steps.


	3. Chapter 3

His first few steps down the staircase were unsettling in the extreme. The clouds crowded in around him and the bulky shapes of the coins in his pockets made his legs feel awkward. He felt out every step with his toes, almost blindly, clutching with his short fingernails at the bark of the tree trunk. And then, as he went…somehow his fear, his thoughts, faded. His body just kept moving, step after step, past the clouds, past the tree tops, and by the time his feet touched solid, grassy ground, it felt like barely any time had passed at all.

 

The sun was still bright and clear, the day still morning-cool and fresh feeling. He checked his watch and, to his astonishment, saw that it was true; barely twenty minutes had passed since he’d first started his climb.

 

“Holy shit!”

 

How had it happened? He looked back up at the tree; perfectly real. Nothing out of place. But his legs were tired from the climb, his pockets were spilling over with worn gold coins, there was still a faint taste of apple on his tongue. And he could still feel Finn’s touch against his stomach.

 

Jack set off for home.

 

*

 

His Mama was taking a bath when he got in. He knew that he could get in the house and back out without disturbing her if he was careful; the bathroom door was thick. He slipped into his bedroom and pulled an old shoebox from the wardrobe. It still had a scrunched up bunch of tissue paper in it, and he pushed most of the coins in underneath. That much gold, hopefully he could stretch it out into two batches, keep a little back for an emergency. He had nineteen coins in total, so he put ten in the box and stuck it underneath his bed, then scrabbled through his dresser drawers until he found the tiny drawstring bag that he’d bought his watch in. It was a little crappy and had the logo of the discount outlet stencilled on the side, but it would look better than just carrying them around in his pocket.

 

Back out the house, down the road into town, then a ten minute wait for the bus into Green Meadow. A couple of people looked at him disapprovingly as he got on the bus, but the driver didn’t seemed bothered, and he took a seat right at the back. An old lady in a weird little round hat was looking suspiciously at him, like she expected him to try and infect her with something. He ignored her as best he could.

 

At least he knew where he was going now; there was a little jeweller’s shop in the town centre of Green Meadow, an old fashioned sort of place that doubled as an antique shop. Not long after Dad had died, Mama had gone to sell her mother’s wedding ring there, trying everything to avoid selling their little fields. The jeweller had been really nice, quiet and professional, and had given them more money for it than he could have gotten away with, especially in such a swanky place where the two of them had stuck out like sore thumbs.

 

The bus ride was long; as he went the other passengers disembarked and new people got on, people who didn’t know him this time, or at least ones who didn’t notice him. He wondered how many people around him were aware of what a luxury it was to simply go unnoticed.

 

Nearly an hour later, the bus pulled up on a side street in the town centre; there weren’t any bus stops on the main street, not enough room among the sports cars and SUVs, he guessed. Maybe he _should_ try to do some business around here. His memory was pretty good and he found the shop easily, a charmingly faded sign hanging above a wide window filled with cases of jewellery and delicate objet d’art. A bell above the door dinged cheerfully as he entered the dimly lit store, and the owner, a serene looking elderly man, stepped through from the back room, and took his place behind the counter.

 

“Can I help you with anything young man?”

 

“Uh…yeah. Yes, ah, do you deal in coins?” Jack said awkwardly, gesturing with the bag.

 

“Hm. On occasion yes. I assume they’re antique coins?”

 

“Oh yeah, but…I’m afraid I don’t know much about them. They belonged to my Grandfather, I never really got into coin collecting.”

 

“Hmm, well, let’s take a gander.”

 

Jack nodded, hoping that fate wouldn’t strike him down for lying to the nice old man. He undid the draw string on the little bag and slid the thick gold discs out onto the counter.

 

The old man’s eyebrows went up.

 

“Those are… my goodness, they really are very old, aren’t they!” he said in astonishment.

 

Jack felt a little touch of panic in the space between his shoulder blades. “Uh, like I said, I don’t really know much about-”

 

“I think I know of several collectors who’d be interested in these. Goodness, I may even know of a museum who would want them! Let me get the catalogue.”

 

The old man bustled off into his back room, murmuring cheerfully to himself, excitement having overcome his salesman’s cool. Jack looked at the little pile of coins. Did they look stolen? The old man seemed okay with them, but maybe he was covering, maybe he was back there calling the police.

 

The door swung open and he came back out, carrying a huge phone-book-like tome in both arms. “This will only take a minute or two,” he assured Jack, and set the book on the counter, where it fell open and several slips of paper fell out. “Oh dear.”

 

Jack waited agitatedly while the shopkeeper leafed through the thin pages of his catalogue, occasionally making little notes on a pad next to him, picking up a coin every now and then and studying it, before shaking his head and returning it to the pile. Finally;

 

“Ah! I knew it would be in here! Here we are, take a look.”

 

Jack leaned over as the old man turned the book, and looked carefully at the article he was pointing at. It took a moment for his eyes to make sense of the tiny, faded text, clustered in among several sketchy diagrams of what were obviously his coins. But when the words started to sink in, a few leapt out at him.

 

Like ‘doubloons’.

 

‘Pirates.’

 

‘Seized by the navy’.

 

‘Thought lost’.

 

These damn coins had been on more adventures than Indiana Jones.

 

“Are…are you sure it’s the same coins?” he asked warily.

 

“Oh yes, yes absolutely. You see, there are several from the same source in the Museum of Antiquity in the city. I’ve a friend who works as a sub-curator for coins there, and I’ve seen them several times. Are you sure you want to sell them? You could make a small fortune exhibiting them.”

 

“I don’t really know how to do that,” Jack admitted sheepishly. “We just really…need the money.” He felt his cheeks colour a touch.

 

The shopkeeper nodded sympathetically. “Let me go and make a phone call,” he said, and went back through the doorway. Jack heard him speaking on the phone; it sounded like he was getting passed between different people, trying to get hold of whoever it was he wanted. After a few minutes, he greeted somebody enthusiastically and started telling them rapidly about the coins.

 

Jack had been idly looking at the display of silver pillboxes in the cabinet underneath the counter, when the man came back into the shop with a cordless phone pressed to his ear.

 

“I’m utterly certain, Audrey, they look exactly like your sketches in the catalogue…of course!..No, no he said they were his Grandfather’s. He doesn’t know where they originally came from, but they’ve been in the family for some time.”

 

He glanced to Jack for confirmation on this, and Jack nodded. A part of him wanted to come clean at that point, but as pleasant as the man was, he didn’t think he’d buy ‘they were scraped off the boot of a giant man who lives at the top of a magic tree’.

 

Still talking to his friend, the shopkeeper took a ruler from under the counter and measured the diameter and thickness of each coin, dutifully reciting the numbers down the phone. Then out came a little brass scale and some weights, and he weighed each one carefully, then weighed them all against each other to make sure they were all the same. Finally, his friend had him pick each up individually and study them for lettering or symbols on their worn surfaces.

 

Eventually, he gave the lady a cheery goodbye and turned his attention back to Jack.

 

“Well young man, it’s good news; they’re real. Or as far as the country’s best coin expert can tell!” He was beaming broadly, and Jack hoped desperately that a phone discussion was enough to convince this expert that they were real; he’d been looking at the article again while the coins were being inspected, and he spotted the selling price of the ones in the museum; they were worth far more than their weight in gold.

 

“My friend has asked me to buy them from you on her behalf, with a view to adding them to her exhibit. Now these are in a rather more worn state than those she has already acquired, so I won’t be able to offer you quite as much money per coin, but I’m sure we can make a good deal.”

 

And there came the part where Jack got had, didn’t it. This nice old man was going to smile and tell him they weren’t really worth that much, and he’d get screwed over yet again, and probably never know how much money he really could have-

 

“Would you be willing to accept two fifty? Per coin that is.”

 

Jack swallowed hard.

 

“Uh…”

 

“I realise it seems low, after the price quoted in the catalogue, but I’m afraid with their condition, and the level of interest that coins get in the antiquities field nowadays, I-”

 

“No! No that…that seems very fair,” Jack replied hastily. Two hundred and fifty times nine was…two thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars! More money than he and Mama had had at one time since she’d had to give up work! He could keep some back, for emergencies, maybe even start a saving account for it. Perhaps he could even give himself a break from work, go job hunting again…

 

The shopkeeper had brought a cash box through from the back room and was busily counting out notes. Jack flinched when he saw them, and the old man looked up.

 

“Um, I know it sounds weird but…do you have anything other than hundreds? I kinda feel they’re…unlucky.”

 

And because he was a genuinely nice man, he didn’t even complain that it took every fifty and twenty dollar bill in the store to pay Jack for the coins.

 

*

 

Jack had a spring in his step and a bright smile on his face when he walked in through the front door. His Mama poked her head out of the living room door and smiled at him warmly.

 

“Can I assume you’ve had some luck, sweetheart?” she asked, hopefully.

 

“I sure did, Mama. You aren’t going to believe it. I got more than I expected, turns out it was in pretty good shape for all that the outside was banged up.”

 

“Oh Jack, that’s wonderful!”

 

Jack took an envelope that the antique salesman had given him from his pocket. He’d put three hundred and fifty dollars in there, as much as he thought she’d buy for the car’s price. The rest he’d hide in his room and …well, he’d decide what to do with it later.

 

His Mama accepted the envelope and looked inside smiling, then with her mouth open wide in astonishment, she took out the sheaf of bills and gasped.

 

“Oh Jack, honey, however did you do it?! This is amazing, oh honey…” She trailed off and Jack tilted his head to see her face properly…

 

She was trying not to cry.

 

Immediately he rushed over to her and put his arms around her. She sniffled and laughed a little, trying to fake that she hadn’t been upset.

 

“Mama, what’s wrong?”

 

“It…it’ll be okay Jack, really. Just, this was a really tight couple of months for us, you know? Even with your job, there’s so many bills, and so much left to pay off from…from what your father left. I really thought…”

 

“What Mama?”

 

She was quiet for a long moment, her hand placed against Jack’s chest as if she was trying to work out whether or not to push him away.

 

“I thought we’d have to…I don’t know, go to the city maybe. I thought we’d have to leave our…our home, Jack.”

 

Jack shivered and opened his mouth, but couldn’t find any words.

 

“We still might honey, I can’t lie to you about this. We’ve got a lot of problems and if we have to leave this place and go somewhere we can get better jobs, well, we’ll just have to, Jack. But we can’t give up on our home for no reason.”

 

“We’ll keep trying,” Jack agreed. “I’ll keep hunting for a better job, Mama, and I’ll find one, you’ll see! And in the meantime, who knows, we might find ourselves with money from… somewhere!”

 

She smiled up at him, her eyes still wet.

 

“Okay honey. That’s what we’ll do. We’ll hope for the best.”

 

Jack kissed her, and went into his bedroom to give her a few minutes to compose herself. He hid the money with the coins, tucked up safely in the scratchy grey tissue paper. Then he changed his clothes, a tight t-shirt that rode up a little on his stomach and a pair of too-big jeans that hung low on his hips. No underwear, which always made him feel embarrassed but was only practical, and a jacket over the top so Mama wouldn’t see how he was dressed.

 

He went back out into the living room, where Mama was sitting at the little table, writing a check.

 

“Mama?”

 

“Yes sweetheart?”

 

“I’m going to work.”

 

*

 

It wasn’t quite dark yet in town when he got there, which limited his options a little; most of his usual haunts were a little too visible for comfort before dark. The moon was clear in the deep blue of the sky, looking fragile and impossibly far away. Jack trudged through the quiet evening streets towards the bar he had in mind for the evening. The owner didn’t usually care what his customers got up to as long as it didn’t stop them drinking, so he mostly tolerated Jack’s presence. This evening though, Jack had barely opened the door into the rowdy bar when a familiar face appeared before him, smiling drunkenly and shooing him back out with one hand on his shoulder.

 

Jack didn’t know the man’s name, but he’d gone with him before once or twice. He was okay, not particularly attractive, but then again how many guys who had to pay for it were? He wasn’t too demanding though, and he never tried to get away without paying.

 

“You ready for me, Jackie?” he drawled happily, leaning into Jack a little more heavily than he probably meant to.

 

“Sure am, are you?” Jack replied, aiming them for the gap between the bar and the building next to it.

 

The guy patted his crotch and snorted. “Don’ matter ‘f I’m drunk. ‘S always ready. Hah!”

 

Jack couldn’t help but laugh a little with him, though it didn’t feel quite right, sounded too harsh, like an old man’s laugh. They rounded the corner into the yard behind the bar and to Jack’s relief it was empty. There was a stack of wooden pallets stuck in a corner near the door to the bar’s basement, which ought to be the right height for the guy to sit on.

 

“You wanna sit on those?”

 

“Sure. ‘S what I like about you, you remember what I want. Good….somethin.” He fumbled his wallet out of his pocket and Jack could see a few twenties poking out. He wondered if the guy realised how easily Jack cold have just made off with his whole wallet, probably max out his credit cards before he even realised…but he wasn’t that low. He was still his Mama’s son.

 

The guy sat down and opened his pants with a drunken flourish, then leaned back on his hands making the pallets creak and grinned dizzily up at Jack. Jack knelt down and took his cock into his mouth. Contrary to his customer’s confidence, he was only halfway hard, but a few seconds of careful sucking brought it to its full size and Jack drew back a little, figuring out how to settle the guy’s erection comfortably in his mouth.

 

He tended to keep things simple when he did this; most of the men he serviced would be thinking of somebody else anyway, no need to ruin their little fantasies by doing something ostentatious that would draw their eye to his face. He took the slightly stale-tasting flesh in as deep as he could, drew back, bobbed a few times and found a good rhythm, a good pressure, making the guy above him grizzle in his throat and slap his palms on the pallets. One hand found its way into Jack’s jacket and slid over his shoulder and into the sleeve a little way, cupping the bare skin of his lean triceps.

 

The touch of Finn’s fingertip against his wet stomach flashed through him and made him flinch.

 

With a grunt, his customer came, spurting semen into Jack’s mouth, then onto the ground as Jack pulled back. He spat, discreetly, and got to his feet, letting the hand that had been settled on his arm slide away.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Yeeeah. Oh hell…” the guy warbled, cheery and sleepy “Good…good cussomer service, that’s the thing.” He picked up the wallet from where he’d set it, just by his hip, and pulled out two twenties, Jack’s usual fee. Jack accepted it with a nod, stuck it in his own pocket, and headed off. The guy would probably sit there for a while then go back in the bar, but Jack wouldn’t be there when he did. It wasn’t like anyone cared enough to get territorial about him or anything, but he always felt awkward about going back into a place where he’d picked somebody up to try for someone else. It was truly night time now, he could find plenty of other places. One of the other bars in town was a fairly reliable spot, and he could go wash his mouth out in the bathroom before he went on the hunt again. He guessed he was pretty prudish for a whore, but he hated talking to people with the smell of some other guy’s spunk on his breath…

 

“Hey Ja-aack!” called a sing song voice from behind him, and Jack froze, his stomach squirming unpleasantly. No use trying to get away. Footsteps came thunking along the sidewalk behind him with smug slowness, assured that he would wait right where he was.

 

“Hi Mr Golightly,” he said quietly as the other man stopped next to him.

 

“Hi Jack, how’s my favourite ex-student tonight? Busy?”

 

“Never too busy for you, Sir,” Jack replied, remembering the lines his old teacher liked to hear by rote. This was met with a mean, shark-like grin, and Jack found himself being led down the street to the old motel.

 

*

 

About forty minutes later Jack was feeling about as low as he could get. It wasn’t any big surprise; Mr Golightly always wanted the same thing from him, and it always went the same way. He’d tell Jack to strip, spread both their clothes out on the bed, then make Jack get down on his hands and knees on the floor and fuck him from behind, hard and fast, panting out dirty little questions all the time.

 

Do you like it?

 

Do you want it harder?

 

Isn’t it big?

 

Do you love it?

 

All of which Jack had to answer with a chipper ‘yes Sir!’ or…well, Mr Golightly had only ever hit him once. Jack wasn’t exactly weak, but he’d never had the kind of sturdiness necessary for a fighter. He’d had to make up a hell of an excuse to explain the split lip to his Mama.

 

But this, now, was the worst part. Rolling over onto his back, feeling lube dribble from his sore asshole onto the thin carpet, and Mr Golightly was sitting on the bed wearing that same cold grin that Jack had first seen when he realised his confession of a crush had been overheard. The first time he realised that this nice, friendly teacher may not be all he seemed.

 

“Go on Jack, show me how much you enjoyed that,” came the words from that sneering mouth, and Jack winced. Always the same; Mr Golightly wouldn’t let him leave until he came. Feeling pitiful, he closed his hand around his cock and thought of the money; if nothing else, Mr Golightly was at least a regular source of income. He paid a little more than Jack usually asked for, even, though Jack was hard pressed to figure out why. It certainly wasn’t kindness; he’d had it made clear to him, many times and in many ways, that Mr Golightly didn’t like Jack, and didn’t want to be liked. He wondered if it was some sort of pride thing, making himself feel big by assuring that Jack came, by giving him plenty of money. Whatever it was, Jack sorely wished he wouldn’t do it.

 

He couldn’t get hard this time. Usually it took him a few minutes, even with his eyes closed he could feel that mean grin crawling over his skin. But this time, nothing. Every sexy image and sordid act he usually called into his mind to spur him on had failed him and now he could hear Mr Golightly shifting on his perch on the mattress, no doubt getting impatient, getting _angry_ …

 

And then there was the touch of Finn’s finger against his damp belly and the feel of his warm, sweet smelling breath…

 

And he was getting hard, stroking himself as fast as he could without hurting, clinging to the lovely picture of Finn sliding his clothes off his shoulders, beaming at him from his seat at the table, the feel of the thick, smooth hairs on his arm as Jack leaned back against it…

 

He grunted and came, finally, and a harsh croak of laughter spewed from Mr Golightly’s mouth, snapping Jack out of his pleasant reverie.

 

“You _did_ enjoy it that time, didn’t you Jack. Was I particularly good? Tell me what you enjoyed the most.”

 

He was so smug, so fucking pleased with himself, and Jack couldn’t stop the grimace from forming on his face, the prickle in the corners of his eyes that threatened to become tears.

 

“You must have liked it, ‘cause look how much you came. Why, you shot it halfway across the room. Look at this!” He ecstatically brandished the pair of tweedy pants that had lain on the bed next to him, and showed the splatter of Jack’s semen across one leg. Jack winced.

 

Mr Golightly leaned down to him and scratched his fingers sharply through Jack’s hair. “Come on now, tell me how much you enjoyed it.”

 

“I…really…”

 

“Good boy, come on.”

 

“…liked you fucking me…” he’d had to force the words through gritted teeth, but they were out. With a crow of laughter, Mr Golightly got up from the bed and grabbed his wallet from the dresser, pulling out a small envelope and tossing it into Jack’s naked lap. Jack winced, then picked it up and heaved himself to his feet. Suddenly he couldn’t bear the room any longer, and he grabbed up his clothes and struggled back into them, not caring that he was dirty and sticky. He just wanted out.

 

“Where you going, Jack? Aw, aren’t I being kind enough?” teased that hated voice, and Jack felt his shoulders tense, his fists clench.

 

“I…”

 

“What? Tell Mr Golightly, he can fix it.”

 

“I…fucking hate this! I don’t want to do it again, you got that?! I won’t!” He turned as he spoke, and saw Mr Golightly’s smug grin turn sour and angry. The other man raised a hand, ready to slap him, but Jack dodged sideways and darted for the door. He got it open and dashed through, and thank fuck that not even Mr Golightly would chase a guy naked through a motel.

 

Next thing he was running past the dopey looking receptionist, and then out into the street. The sky was still clear and the moon still bright.

 

Jack felt sick.

 

He wished now that he hadn’t thought about Finn. Now that lovely memory was dirtied and ruined. He still had the envelope in his hand, a hundred and fifty dollars inside, enough to give his Mama for half a weeks worth of made-up shifts at the packaging depot. Or… he could leave it. He had the money from the coins, and more coins left besides. That would carry them over for a long time, even without the regular money from Mr Golightly. Clenching his jaw, Jack scrunched up the envelope in his hand and dropped it on the ground, stepping on it once for good measure.

 

Striding away down the street, he felt bold and headstrong. So what if things were tight? So what if they had to do without a few things? They had their house, they had their home in this town. They’d be okay. And if things went wrong then they’d move to the city and start over. It’d be hard, but they’d settle, and eventually it’d all come good.

 

It’d be okay to be in the city, to be where there were jobs and apartments, and…

 

It…it would break his Mama’s heart.

 

Feeling his face strain with the threat of tears once again, Jack turned and walked back the few steps to the envelope, picked it up, stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket.

 

Defeated, he began the long walk home, his backside hurting and his heart weary.

 

He wanted Finn.


	4. Chapter 4

Three days of sneaking later, Jack had managed to make a dent in their debts, or at least he thought he had. Who knew what his mama was hiding from him in her attempts to protect him, but at least he was getting somewhere. He'd taken cash into the bank to pay off some money from a few accounts, not so much that Mama would immediately notice, however. Lucky that she had a bad memory for numbers. He'd also paid off the money they owed the plumber, and to the carpenter from when the door got broken. He'd even managed to slip a little money into her purse a few times, which had confused her, but at least it had helped to calm her down a little.

 

The only trouble was, he was almost out of cash, or at least the coin cash. He was still working, but had cut back a little on how much time he spent on it, as he'd gone back to hunting for jobs. Almost got his heart broken the day before, when he'd seen a 'help wanted' sign in the window of the veterinary surgery over on Brook Street. When he'd gone in to ask though, he'd been told it was for a nurse. He was nowhere near qualified, probably never would be. The guy in charge, Dr Prince, had been really nice though. He'd come out of the consulting room holding a chinchilla while Jack was waiting at the front desk, and when he saw how interested he was in the little creature, he cheerfully let him hold it. It made him feel kind of like a kid being given a lollipop at the dentist, but it was a nice gesture. Soft.

 

Still, drove it home how poor his chances were.

 

He was in the library going through the newspapers, looking for a crumb, wondering if he could make it to the jeweller's that afternoon to sell the rest of the coins, when a flash of bright colour outside the window caught his eye.

 

Green. Like, a whole suit of it.

 

The lady behind the circulation desk gave him a weird look as he dashed past for the exit, but he was outside before she had a chance to say anything, scanning the street in both directions until he spotted the man in the green suit disappearing around the corner of the shoe store. Jack broke into a run, charging noisily down the thankfully quiet mid-afternoon street, got around the corner of the store to find...

 

Nothing. A little alley, a couple of trash cans, some squashed old shoe boxes...no man in green.

 

Pissed off, Jack aimed a kick at the nearest pile of boxes, flipping the top few into the air in a little arc. Damn man in green was the reason all of this had started, and now...

 

Okay, he wasn't the start of this, but it was because of him that Jack had lost the car...but also because of him that Finn had given him the coins, which turned out to be worth much more...and because of him that he'd _met_ Finn...

 

Still, he was fucking annoying, practically leading him up that tree, and now he didn't know what the hell to do, and he couldn't...

 

Actually, could he?

 

It occurred to him for the first time that he'd never even tried to go back up the tree. Instantly, he felt horribly guilty. Who knew how long Finn had been up there with no company whatsoever, and even though he'd promised to try and find a way back, Jack hadn't even tried to take that path again.

 

Money problems could wait, for a little while at least. Jack set off for the road into the woods.

 

*

 

The trail was the same as last time; one minute nothing at all on either side of the path, and then a little strip of flat earth and dappled light. Jack walked along feeling strangely tense given that he already knew what to expect, but...

 

What if the tree wasn't there?

Or wasn't climbable?

Or something had happened to it...

 

And then there it was, towering over the forest, the flat steps around its trunk looking striking against the bark.

 

The climb, this time, was calmer than the last. Jack knew how to set his feet on the steps without slipping and how to slide his palm against the bark, hard enough to steady himself but not so hard it grazed his hand. Once again there was that strange drifting feeling as he rose through the sky, and before he knew it, his feet were on solid ground again and the magnificent tree was a gnarled old twist of branches at his back.

 

It had seemed too easy, almost, but then he had very little precedent for the situation.

 

He squinted his eyes as he emerged from the swirl of cloud into the strong sunlight, then felt a smile spread across his face as he spotted Finn. The huge man was kneeling in among the rows of corn shoots, carefully picking strands of weed out of the soil. The wrapped layers of his clothing bared one shoulder, and his skin shone dully in the sun.

 

“Finn!” Jack called, half expecting to be stampeded at and swept off his feet.

 

Finn didn't move

 

“Hey! Finn! Fiiiiiiiinn!”

 

Then Jack realised; Perspective was tricky when one was trying to get the attention of a giant man, but Finn had to be at least half a mile away, maybe more.

 

“Shit.”

 

Jack set off across the field, the chunks of dense soil that lay underfoot threatening to turn his ankle or land him on his ass at every other step. At least the corn stalks shaded him as he went along, and at every third row he stopped to yell out Finn's name and wave his arms about, just in case that would help.

 

Twelve yells later, and Finn turned his head towards Jack at the sound of his shout, and Jack's breath left his lungs as he saw Finn's warm smile for the first time in too damn long.

 

Had it really only been a few days?

 

He stayed put as Finn hauled himself to his feet and strode over to where Jack stood, making grains of soil jump and shudder with each footstep. Jack was amazed for a moment at how peaceful and safe he felt, as huge, coarse-skinned hands reached down and scooped him up, and then he was being lifted up for what felt like miles, and Finn's smiling face was just a few feet from his own.

 

“Hello little Jack. I've missed you.”

 

“Me too. I'm so happy to see you again, Finn.”

 

*

 

“Has it been the same amount of time for you? Since you were last here, I mean?”

 

“I dunno. It was...four days ago. How about for you?”

 

Finn nodded, a mild expression of relief on his face. “Same. I don't know why I was worried about that. Specifically.”

 

“I don't blame you. The world's been pretty weird to you.”

 

Finn opened the door to his house and stepped inside, the cool of the interior pleasantly refreshing after the oppressive heat outside. Finn looked around briefly, seemingly to figure out where to put Jack down. Not especially fond of the table, Jack leaned out from his perch in the crook of Finn's arm and looked around; there wasn't really much in there. Choices seemed to be the table, the chair, the cabinet, the rim of the bathtub or the top of the stove.

 

Or the bed.

 

Well, they'd technically had sex on a table already, so asking to sit on Finn's bed probably wasn't that forward. He patted a hand against Finn's chest to get his attention and pointed. “Can I sit over there?”

 

Finn looked surprised for a moment. “Certainly.” Jack wondered if the little touch of red he'd seen on Finn's cheeks as he replied had been his own hopeful imagination. Finn crossed the cavernous room in two steps and leaned down to reverently place Jack on the bed, in the centre of the mattress. Jack was peripherally aware that he barely made a dent in the lumpy mattress, but he didn't care. The sheets he sat on were thick as carpet and rough as hell, and he bounced happily for a little while. Finn crouched down next to the bed for a moment, his face a picture of happiness that made Jack's lungs feel a few sizes too small, then he turned away to the cabinet.

 

Jack looked around the room again. He guessed it was a little earlier in the day than the last time he'd visited, from the way the light was slanting into the room. The table bore a large bowl, the one he'd swam in last time, and a bundle of rough cloth with what looked like a knife...no, a razor, lying on top of it. Next to the door was a rickety looking basket, half full of apples. Apart from that, all was as it had been before.

 

Four days.

 

Finn returned, kneeling next to the bed this time, and seemingly making himself comfortable there. He set a plate down next to Jack, then handed him a little slice of peach, as carefully and delicately cut as the apple, last time. Jack accepted it, smiling, and found himself giggling as the juice ran down to his wrists.

 

“So, what of the world since you were last here, Jack?” Finn asked, between bites of his peach.

 

Jack knew right away what he was asking about.

 

“Well, the coins were a huge help, thanks. It turned out they were worth a lot of money, so I sold them to a guy who's going to sell them to a lady who...well, she works at a museum. I don't know if she's the boss of coins there or something. I managed to get us into a better place, financially, though we aren't quite back in the black yet.”

 

“I'm glad it helped. “ Finn replied, and Jack could feel that he really was pleased. “What about everything else? Any news on your Mother?”

 

“Nothing really. Which in itself is good news. She's pretty stable really, not much chance of her getting any worse. But she doesn't really get any better.”

 

“At least that's something,” Finn replied, a little weakly.

 

“I, uh, took the opportunity of having some cash to hand to look for a real job,” Jack told him, feeling sheepish. “I haven't had any luck so far though. I'm starting to think I'll have to look further afield or something. Maybe even...I dunno. I don't want to have to leave Eastgate.”

 

“You'll find something. Don't worry,” Finn told him kindly, and the way he said it, Jack could almost believe him.

 

“I didn't stop yet. You know, turning tricks. But I managed to get rid of one guy who always really got under my skin. He paid me a lot, but I hated him.”

 

“But he's not going to bother you any more?”

 

“Well, I can only hope not. He still lives in town though, so he might turn up again. Hope not.” With just that thought, his good mood thinned. He pushed the last bite of the peach into his mouth and tried to wipe the juice off his chin with his sticky hand. Finn was silent, unmoving, while he did so. After a small space of time though, he reached out and settled his hand on the sheets next to Jack, rubbing the side of his thumb up and down Jack's back a little. God, it felt so nice.

 

“What did this guy do that was so bad?”

 

“It was...it started a few years ago. It's not a nice story.”

 

“Tell me anyway, hm? It'll do you good.”

 

And Jack couldn't even look up at Finn's face, because he knew the tender expression that would be there, and knew that it would do him in.

 

And so he told the whole unpleasant tale, about how Mr Golightly had overheard his clumsy, misunderstood admission of affection for another student, years ago. How that teacher, known by the whole town to be so respectable and kindly, warned the other students and their families that Jack was gay and that he'd been unreasonably pursuing other boys in the school, making him out to be some kind of sexual predator. The angry glares and frightened glances of his fellow students, of the adults he passed in the street...

 

All this on top of his father's death, and then his Mama getting ill. And he'd been the one it had fallen on to make ends meet, nobody else to do it.

 

So he'd left school and sold himself. To the first person who was asked him to, the person who'd even put the idea in his head, if he was honest.

Mr Golightly.

 

His hands were clenched in the rough sheets by the time he finished his explanation. Finn's thumb had stopped rubbing his back, but the warmth of it was settled at the base of his spine, comfortably weighty.

 

“I told him I wasn't gonna go with him again...but I don't know if he'll listen. He's a little weird. It scares me.”

 

“Can you defend yourself from him?” Finn asked.

 

“Doubt it. I got in a fight once in my entire life, and the only reason I didn't lose outright was because the other guy was drunk and fell on his ass trying to take a swing at me.”

 

He'd half expected to hear a laugh at that, but when he finally looked up at Finn's face, it was tense and worried.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said. “It's like last time all over again. I turn up and unload all my crap on you, then come on to you.”

 

“It's okay, I don't mind. I'd rather have you up here getting your troubles out of your system than anyone else I've ever met. Even if they brought hot-dogs and beer.”

 

That actually made Jack chuckle a little bit, and he wiped at his face with his hands. Finn picked him up again and propped him carefully against his chest, then turned to sit down on the bed, his shoulders leaning against the wall behind it, and his legs stretched out on the sheets.

 

Jack felt like a little weight had been lifted from him; sure, soon he'd have to go back down the tree and deal with Mr Golightly and all his other problems, but right now, snuggled against Finn's warm chest, he felt so serene. So safe.

 

“Promise me something,” Finn said in a low serious voice that seemed to rumble right into Jack's skeleton.

 

“What?”

 

“Don't...don't try to be brave, okay? If he comes to give you trouble. Just..run, or hide behind somebody else or something. Will you do that?”

 

“Jack twisted his upper body so he could look up at Finn's face, and nodded. “Yeah, that was more or less my plan anyway.”

 

“Good. That guy sounds like scum, Jackie. I don't want him near you. I wish I could come and take care of him.”

 

Jack's imagination was suddenly overwhelmed by a mental image of Mr Golightly going _squish_ like a cockroach under Finn's foot, and his good mood was complete.

 

“I wish you could too,” he promised, smiling up at Finn. “But for the time being, I'll be really careful of him, I promise you. Now, I think I said something earlier about coming on to you?”

 

“You sure you want to little Jack? Not that I don't, but I'd not have you thinking that I want to take advantage of you.”

 

So _sweet_! “I'm sure, really.” Finn was about the only person he wouldn't mind taking advantage of him.

 

“Well then, what would you like to do? Like last time?”

 

“Yes please,” Jack said, kneeling up in the little valley between Finn's chest and forearm to take off his t-shirt. “But...would you mind getting naked this time? Please?”

 

“I was naked last time too. In fact I seem to remember you having a pretty good look,” Finn replied, grinning. He carefully took Jack's shirt and laid it on the pillow, then let Jack put his shoes into his palm, one at a time.

 

“I know, but I didn't really see you until afterwards.” Finn was quiet while Jack got the rest of his clothes off, and simply held out his hand for Jack's pants and underwear, to put them with his shoes.

 

“You're sure Jack?”

 

“Huh? About you being naked?”

 

“...yes. I don't wanna...” he sighed, and put Jack down on the sheets. Jack felt himself frown.

 

“You don't want to scare me, is that it?” he asked.

 

Finn said nothing but the caught out expression on his face told Jack he'd got it on the nose.

 

“You don't scare me,” Jack said, reaching out to pat Finn's nearby forearm in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “S'okay.”

 

“...okay,” Finn replied.

 

It took him seconds to undress, literally. Just grabbed a tuck of fabric behind his shoulder and pulled and _whoosh_ ; naked giant guy.

 

Naked giant...yeah.

 

Dick.

 

And it was a good thing that Jack wasn't the type to get worried about being smaller than a guy he was having sex with because, seriously, that was just ridiculous.

 

“See? I thought it'd scare you,” Finn mumbled and reached for a sheet to pull around himself.

 

“Don't you dare!” Jack replied, grabbing onto Finn's wrist and clambering up onto the back of his hand. “And I'm not scared. I just...hadn't really considered that...”

 

“That it'd be as big as you?”

 

“Don't flatter yourself, man. I'm still taller,” Jack replied, trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of what he'd just said.

 

Finn squinted down at himself. “You think?”

 

“Yes!” Jack replied, hearing the growing laughter in his and Finn's voices both. He grabbed onto Finn's forearm and held tight. “Lift me onto your lap. I'll prove it.”

 

Grinning, Finn carefully raised his hand, Jack attached, and shifted so he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, his shoulders still leaned back against the wall. Jack slid off his hand until his feet were placed on the firm, warm flesh of Finn's thigh, the sparse, thick hairs there tickling at his soles. Jesus he was warm.

 

His own erection hadn't calmed down at all, despite the giggling and the weird discussion at hand.

 

Standing on Finn's warm thigh and he could pretty much see it all from here; his hard, thick cock, his balls, the scratchy bush of his pubic hair...and he could look up and see his face, awkward and embarrassed but smiling.

 

And no way was it actually taller than he was, but it was still really, really fucking big in a way that just defied Jack's ability to think. The only thing that kept running through his mind was that there were probably millions of men and women out in the world who got themselves off with fantasies about something almost exactly like this.

But he was here, and he was never this damn lucky. Never.

 

“Does it bug you, me standing on you like this?”

 

“No, you're light.”

 

“Kay,” said Jack, and went exploring.

 

Finn's thighs were tight skin over firm, hard-working muscle, which was just as well for Jack, because if he'd been flabby it would have been impossible to do what he was doing.

 

Which was walking up Finn's leg towards his groin.

 

Which he could hardly _believe_ he was doing.

 

Finn just sitting, watching him and smiling, letting him do what he wanted to.

 

Leaning back further to make it easier for Jack to get close and then...

 

He seemed really surprised when Jack put his arms around it, even though Jack thought it pretty obvious that that's what he was going to do.

 

“Jack, you don't...uh...”

 

“No, let me. S'okay.”

 

And it was. Really. He was turned on and warm and happy. And yeah, it was weird and probably meant he had some kind of mental issue, but it felt good to hold onto Finn's cock like that.

 

The air smelled so strongly of musk that it made his head swim, but he still pressed his chest and his pelvis up against the side of Finn's shaft and felt the hard flesh in the circle of his arms, felt the pulse of blood underneath the skin, ran his hands around the thick folds of his foreskin and over the springy flesh of the tip. He was vaguely aware of Finn's hand, cupped behind him in case he fell, and that...

 

If he could just stay there...

 

“I dunno what to do with you,” he admitted. “I want...I want to make you come but,  dunno how to...”

 

“It's alright,” Finn replied in that soothing way he had. “Here.”

 

He lifted Jack again, peeling him gently away from his prize, then lay back on the bed making the wooden frame creak. Jack ended up propped on his chest, between the pads of his pectorals, warm in the rope-like curls of his chest hair. Finn's hand remained cupped over his back.

 

“Okay like this?”

 

“Sure. I'm not too heavy?”

 

“You're light as a feather, don't worry.”

 

“Cool,” murmured Jack, and now it was just time to enjoy himself, nothing going on in his head but the feel of his hand around his own cock, and the warmth and solidity of Finn's body beneath him. He could feel Finn's body rock slightly as he worked at himself, a good feeling. Holding himself in his fist, he rolled until his weight was on his hand and his cock, moving his hips and pressing into the slight yield of Finn's flesh.

 

Quiet and cosy and so _good_ , surrounded by happy giant man.

So good to do it gentle and soft, feeling every motion Finn made and knowing he was enjoying it just the same.

 

It would be so good...so good if he could do this for real...if he could have Finn inside him...

 

He curled up against Finn's chest and shuddered as he came, felt Finn tremble under him a few moments later, and watched his handsome face as his eyes fluttered closed.

 

They smiled goofily at each other. Finn lifted his hand away from Jack's back and replaced it with a corner of the blanket, then licked what must have been a splash of his own semen off the back of his hand.

 

Jack snuggled up to him, feeling wonderful. Really though, he told himself, he shouldn't stay there too long. In a couple of minutes he should get up and start psyching himself up to face the rest of the day.

 

A few seconds after this thought passed through his mind, he was fast asleep.

 

*

 

“This is corn, and that over there is carrots, or at least it's going to be.”

 

Jack nodded and turned in Finn's grasp to look back towards the house. “And over there?”

 

“Fallow at the moment, but I've got some pumpkin seeds from last year that I'm going to plant. You want to see the fruit trees?”

 

“Sure.”

 

They set off across the fields, Jack rocked by Finn's long, lumbering stride. They'd woken up together about an hour ago and Finn had let Jack take a bath in the bowl again, laughing happily as he watched Jack sculpt his wet hair into horns and a mohawk. Jack had lingered in the water, torn between wanting to go back and make things right and just hide out here forever. Finn seemed to sense this, and offered him a way to stay for a little longer with the offer of a tour of his 'farm'.

 

They'd passed the house now, heading for a far field with a well spread collection of smallish trees, Jack perched comfortably in the crook of Finn's arm, when Finn paused and turned his head.

 

“You hear something?” Jack asked.

 

“Did I tell you about Goldie?” Finn replied.

 

“Uh...”

 

“The goose. I...named her Goldie,” Finn explained sheepishly.

 

Jack quietly adored him. “You mentioned her, yeah. It's a cool name.”

 

“I just heard her honking. Shall we go look for her?”

 

Jack nodded and Finn set off for a patch of lush grass in a little hollow in-amongst the scrub. He walked deliberately and quietly, placing his feet with care, all the while calling softly, “Goldiegoldiegoldie...here I am little Goldie, don't be scared...”

 

Jack craned his neck to see as Finn crouched and leaned over the hollow. A squawk of surprise rose up from below, and then a little white and brown goose appeared out of the grass, flapping and hissing.

 

“Stop cussing now,” Finn told it sternly. “There's no way you can say you didn't hear me coming.”

 

The goose calmed down, or at least stopped flapping. “You wanna say hi?” Finn asked softly, and it took Jack a moment to realise that he was addressing him and not the goose.

 

“Sure she won't nip me?”

 

“I'm sure. She usually just pecks around this bit of the farm. She's pretty friendly.”

 

“Okay.” Finn carefully lowered Jack onto the ground and let him hang onto his thumb until he'd found his feet on the soft ground.

 

He was taken aback, for just a moment, to realise that the goose was...goose sized. She was staring curiously at him from the bottom of the hollow, apparently quite at ease with his sudden appearance, despite her earlier snit. He walked carefully down the slope, until they were just a few metres away from each other, both in-among the huge, floppy blades of grass that rose tall as trees from the ground.

 

“Hey little goose,” he said quietly to her as he approached. “Hey little Goldie goose. I'm Jack.”

 

He wondered if Finn ever talked to her when he felt lonely. Yeah, he probably did.

 

She cocked his head to look at him, then started edging towards him, neck stretched out and mouth slightly open. Not the posture of a relaxed goose. He stayed still and let her approach, stayed still while she cautiously explored around him. Finally she seemed to settle.

 

“See if she'll let you pet her,” Finn suggested. “She lets me pick her up.”

 

Jack nodded and stretched one hand out towards her, slowly, slowly, and she stayed still, unconcerned with his antics now she'd decided what he was.

 

And then his hand was flat on her back, feeling the yielding soft-coarseness of her feathers. White with broad stripes of mottled brown, barn owl colours, with big yellow feet.

 

“She's sweet,” he told Finn. “I love animals.”

 

Finn, kindly soul that he was, left him there for goodness know how long, sitting quietly on the ground while Jack hung out with the goose. She had a nice presence, chilled out and amiable, more like a dog than a bird as far as companionship was concerned. At least in Jack's experience.

 

Of course, his experience was getting chased by Mr McElgar's chickens...

 

Somewhere behind him Finn was whistling a little tune, an odd little dawdling melody to kill the time while he waited for Jack. It was a sweet sound. Soothing.

 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, chilling with the goose, but by the time he finally stood and brushed off his backside, he was starting to get cold. Realising that his attention had shifted to other things, Goldie waddled off into the grass once again. Jack turned to Finn and, smiling broadly, reached up his arms to be picked up.

 

“Did you say the man in green brought her?” he asked, as Finn carried him back to the house.

 

“Yeah. I'd just find some odd thing he'd left sometimes, like a cooking pot or some seeds somewhere...then one day there's suddenly this goose there, with a little note stuck in her crate with her, barely big enough for me to read. Said that I was to take good care of her, and if she was happy enough, she'd lay a lucky egg.”

 

“Seriously? A lucky egg?”

 

“Yup. Don't really know what he meant, but whenever she laid an egg I'd try and pick it up and bust it. She stashes them somewhere now. Every now and then I'll step on a little bunch of 'em and she'll go off on me. It's not like any of 'em are ever going to hatch though.”

 

Jack chuckled. They were back on the path in front of the house now, and Finn paused.

 

“Do...you wanna-”

 

“Not really, I don't want to go back. I wish I could bring my Mama up here and just hide out. But I have to go.” He felt wretchedly sad, as Finn lifted him up and planted a kiss on the top of his head that made his hair slick. Jack flung his arms out and ended up hugging Finn's chin, which made them both smile just a little.

 

Finn carried him down to the tree, and peered at it as he set Jack down, staring through the suddenly rising mist to try and see the exit.

 

“Darn...” he murmured cryptically, but Jack felt it would be cruel to ask him if he could see it.

 

“Can I come and see you again?” he asked, then felt guilty for it.

 

“Of course you can, Finn replied caressingly. “Come back whenever you can.”

 

Jack nodded, no way he could speak, not when his voice was choked with sudden tears.

 

Finn waved to him as he walked into the mist, and then Jack's feet found the top step and he was on his way back home.

 

*

 

It was sunny still when he reached the bottom, and he checked his watch; only about half an hour gone since he'd left the town. It was getting on for late afternoon now though, and there was little point to going after jobs again so late. Places would be closing down for the day.

 

The path back to his home was pleasantly shaded for most of the route by the high hedges edging Mr McElgar's and Mr Branford's farms and he made a good pace, feeling...maybe not quite happy, but maybe more peaceful than he had earlier. He found himself whistling the same little melody that he'd heard from Finn and realised that it wasn't as random as it had first sounded. Maybe it was a song Finn had known from when he was living down on earth. The sun and the breeze and the sound of his own whistling made Jack feel so positive, for the first time in far too long.

 

As he approached the house though, something struck him as wrong; there was a car parked in the driveway, not like their little rust box, but a big smart looking one, with mud splashed up the sides from the tyres.

 

And he knew that car.

 

It belonged to Dr Atieno, his Mama's doctor.

 

Jack ran for the front door, his heart thudding in his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack flung open the front door and rushed inside, heart pounding.

 

“Mama! Mama, you okay?!”

 

A sound from the living room caught his attention, and he yanked the door open, hard.

His Mama was sitting in her arm chair, one arm stretched out, as Dr Atieno fastened the blood pressure cuff around it. They both stared at him with matching expressions of surprise as he stood there.

 

“I’m...I’m an idiot,” he managed, feeling his pulse begin to slow back to normal.

 

“Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong? Did you see the car and panic?”

 

Jack nodded sheepishly and stepped into the room, sinking down onto the edge of the window seat. Dr Atieno gave him a warm smile, then turned back to checking his Mama’s blood pressure. Jack knew he shouldn’t get so worried; it was widely agreed that Dr Atieno was a great doctor and that he could have gotten a much better, more prestigious place than the surgery in their little town. But he said he liked the quiet life, the sense of community. He’d been quite the sensation when he first came to work there. Jack had been about eleven years old and even he remembered. In their mostly white, mostly lived-there-for-generations little town, a black doctor with a Kenyan surname and a slight French accent was quite a culture shock. But people had gotten used to it, once they realised how lucky the town was.

Jack trusted Dr Atieno absolutely. If he said Mama was in no danger, she was in no danger. The only trouble was, they couldn’t afford the treatments that would make her entirely better, and that was after the doctor had helped them through endless insurance applications, research and pleas, even calling in favours from his medical colleagues to try and find some help. The man was one in a million.

 

Dr Atieno undid the cuff and turned to put it back in his case, catching Jack’s eye as he did so in a way that Jack immediately recognised as ‘I want to talk to you, young man’. He nodded, just slightly, and started to think of an excuse to get them both out of the room. He watched his Mama breathe into the thing that tested her lung capacity, and by the time she was done, he’d thought of something.

 

“Would you like a cup of coffee, doctor?” he asked.

 

Immediately Dr Atieno stood up. “I’d love one Jack, thanks. Let me come and help you.”

 

His Mama was too relieved to have heard that everything was okay to fuss about him letting a guest help with coffee, so the two of them slipped quickly out of the living room and into the kitchen, closing the door behind them. Jack switched on the electric kettle and got the jar of instant coffee out of the cabinet.

 

“You promised me every three months, Jack. It’s been nearly five!” Dr Atieno said softly, and Jack cringed, feeling guilty.

 

“I know, but we just...I...”

 

“You can _not_ play around with your health Jack, especially not when your mother relies on you so much. What’s the problem?”

 

Jack bit the bullet. “We’re really bad for money right now. A load of new problems cropped up with repaying Dad’s debts, and what with Mama’s medical bills and...you know how it goes. I’m sorry.”

 

Dr Atieno nodded, watching quietly as Jack spooned instant coffee and sugar into the mugs.

 

“A sexual health check isn’t that big a deal, money wise. At least, not from my surgery’s point of view. As you’re in an...unusual situation, I can certainly make an exception and-”

 

“No! I know you mean well, but I don’t want to be a charity case.” Jack sighed and leaned back against the counter. “I’m sorry, I appreciate the offer, I really do. I’ll get some money together. I have a few old things I was meaning to sell. And you’re right that I need to be careful.”

 

“Thank you,” Dr Atieno said, sounding truly sincere. He reached out and placed his hand on the back of Jack’s neck, a soothing gesture that always made Jack think back to tetanus shots when he was a kid, and flinching before the needle had even touched him.

 

He picked up two of the mugs, nodded Dr Atieno towards the last one, and they headed back into the living room.

 

*

 

Jack was thinking about his conversation with Dr Atieno while he wandered through town that evening. The guy always went above and beyond, really. There was no need for him to have come out to the house to give Jack’s Mama her check up, especially as he hadn’t known about them selling the car until after he’d arrived. And there was no need for him to keep such a careful eye on Jack either, certainly not for him to offer to do an expensive medical test for free. He was a good guy. There were far too few of those.

 

In fact...all the good guys Jack knew were pretty much Dr Atieno and Finn. And Mr McElgar, he was a sweet guy. Oh, and the nice man in the antique store! So that was four...and he guessed the vet who’d let him cuddle the chinchilla had been pretty cool too, Dr Prince...

 

Maybe people weren’t so bad.

 

He paused his musings long enough to tell a guy leaning out the window of a Suburban that he didn’t go in cars, then continued on his way as the guy cussed him out.

 

He guessed that, with the exception of Mr Golightly, who was a shitbag, not even his customers were bad guys, or at least most of them. Sure, some of them were married or something, which wasn’t a nice thing, but they weren’t cruel to him and he’d hardly ever had anybody try to cheat him.

 

The two guys he’d gone with that evening for example; one was an older guy who he thought was some kind of academic or something, who’d wanted to put his cock between the tops of Jack’s thighs and spent the whole time telling him that that’s how the Ancient Greeks had done it with beautiful youths. Jack took it as a compliment. The other had been a cop, in uniform but off duty, who’d had Jack suck him off in a bathroom. He kept his eyes shut and panted a name over and over again, which Jack thought was probably his ex-girlfriend. Neither of them bad guys, both paid up, didn’t hurt him or talk down to him, just got on with it.

 

Everybody liked sex. Jack was a service provider.

 

The idea made him laugh to himself, the sound a little too loud in the quiet night time street. A left turn took him towards the bar he’d been in the last evening he’d gone with Mr Golightly. That was a nice thought; the _last_ time. It was usually a good spot, looked pretty well occupied tonight too. Jack was actually feeling okay this evening too, if not exactly happy. Just a little more money and he’d have enough to last the week, then another night and he could pay his for the check up.

 

Walking down the street, listening to the wavery strains of classic rock creeping from the bar’s closed doors, he missed the sound of the car slowing down as it neared him. And the sound of it pulling over.

 

He didn’t miss the sound of the door slamming.

 

He hadn’t even turned all the way round when he heard the shout.

 

“You little fucker! You know what you’ve done?!”

 

It was Mr Golightly. Jack had never seen him like this though. He was dishevelled and his eyes were reddened, everything about his posture and expression screaming ‘drunk’. This couldn’t be good.

 

Jack glanced back over his shoulder. The door of the bar was only about fifteen yards away. Mr Golightly was pretty close, but there was no way he could run fast in that state. If Jack kept backing up, waited for an opening to make a dash for it...

 

“You’ve fucking _ruined_ me you little whore! You know what you did? Ruined!”

 

“Wha?” Jack gasped weakly.

 

“My wife... _my Goddamned wife_...she says she’s divorcing me...for having an affair! You believe that shit?”

 

 _Yes_ , Jack didn’t say. He shook his head desperately, kept edging backwards.

 

“Found...money missing...found cum on my pants leg...said she put two and two together. Two and fucking two! She knows shit!”

 

She knows plenty, Jack thought. Kept edging. Ten yards now, maybe. Almost safe and sound.

 

“I’ll...tell her it’s not true?” Jack tried.

 

“ _FUCK_ you! You’re the fucking problem!”

 

Jack took a staggering, panicked step backwards, stumbling on the uneven sidewalk, as Mr Golightly rushed towards him, forgoing running to make a low dive at Jack’s middle, knocking him down. Jack yelped as he fell, his left arm jarring painfully underneath him, kicking and struggling as Golightly grabbed at him. Drawing a breath as deep as he could, he screamed, hoping desperately that somebody in the bar would hear it.

 

Golightly’s elbow struck him across the jaw, and the older man let out a crowing guffaw as Jack reeled from the sudden burst of pain, feeling his mouth fill with blood. One arm trapped underneath him, the other in Mr Golightly’s grip, the heavy, drunken body kneeling across his thighs, he was trapped.

 

The door of the bar opened, and Jack’s heart leapt with hope at the spill of noise and light.

 

“Help!” he screamed, or tried to scream, spluttering blood and spittle onto the concrete. Twisting, he could just about see two guys emerge from the doorway, leaning companionably into each other, both faces suddenly turned towards him.

 

Above him, Mr Golightly managed to sputter out a vague laugh.

 

“My…my friend’s a little drunk, gennlemen…” he called across to them. “Jus’ ignore him, kay?”

 

One of the guys, not wholly sober himself, grinned at them and turned away towards the parking lot…

Mr Golightly grunted, satisfied, turned his attention back to Jack and shook him hard by the shoulders, smacking the back of his head against the ground. Jack yelled again, feeling more spittle fly from his lips.

 

“Oops,” Mr Golightly crowed, happily.

 

Jack struggled, his heart thumping at the inside of his ribs, his blood pounding in his ears, when over the horrible sound he heard-

 

“Is that blood? Dude!”

 

Somebody walking towards them from the bar. Mr Golightly’s head shot up to see. “No no, it’s just that he’s had a little too-”

 

With a dizzying heave Jack twisted his body and managed to throw Mr Golightly’s weight off him. Struggling to his feet, he felt a hand claw at the back of his shirt, but staggered away, stumbling dazedly, and began to run.

 

Behind him he could hear yelling, but his ringing ears couldn’t work out which voice it was. A hundred yards and he was so out of breath that his head was swimming and his throat was sore, but he kept going, kept running like his life depended on it, until finally he found himself standing in amongst the little cluster of birch trees at the edge of the park.

 

The park was good. It wasn’t too well lit, but Eastgate didn’t have quite enough freaks to make that dangerous. Walking through the little gap in the fence where a gate had hung many years ago, he found a wooden bench and perched on the edge to take stock.

 

The back of his head was sore and felt a little swollen, but didn’t seem to be bleeding, though both of his elbows were a bit bloody. His hip hurt from where he’d hit the floor and when he pulled the waistband of his jeans down he could see the red smudge of the forming bruise.

 

Shit.

 

He couldn’t believe he’d thought Mr Golightly wouldn’t give him any more trouble. How fucking naïve could he be?

 

What was worse, he couldn’t believe he’d thought he’d be safe someplace just because it was crowded. Those two guys, they hadn’t helped! There he was, getting beaten up on the fucking ground, it had to have been obvious even to drunk people.

 

Nobody cared enough to even help him.

 

‘It’s that Jack guy, he’s bad news. Don’t go help him, folk’ll think you’re gay.’

 

Jack’s chest hitched and he gripped the front edge of the bench seat, digging his fingers into the worn old wood.

 

Fucking worthless.

 

He wasn’t crying, not really, but there were tears trying to come out, burning in the corners of his eyes. It was so fucking unfair. He rubbed at his eyes and nose and, somehow, that was enough to set him off properly, and before he knew it he was sobbing into his hands, pressing his lips together tightly to try and stop too much noise from coming out.

 

He wanted Finn so much. His warm hands and his sweet smile and his gentle laughing voice, even the thought of him was enough to make Jack feel a little less bad. He was so kind and tender, so understanding, and even though Jack knew that he was the only person Finn had seen in so long, it still made him feel special.

 

His Mama would adore Finn. She’d sit him down in the living room and bring out the photo albums, fuss about with his hair and telling him what a nice young man he was. Jack knew she worried about him not having a boyfriend.

 

But then, he didn’t have a boyfriend. Finn was a giant living on a farm at the top of a magic tree. And yes, he was lovely, and yes, Jack desperately wanted to be able to just…just kiss him properly even!

 

But it wasn’t going to happen. The whole situation was so freakish and impossible to get his head around…

 

Truly miserable now, Jack got to his feet and made his slow and painful way home.

 

 

*

 

 

Three days later and he was sitting in Dr Atieno’s office, squinting in the beam of sunlight coming in through the window and gingerly holding a cotton-ball to the inside of his elbow. A blood test, urine sample and that thing with the swab - _ew_ -  and now he was sitting by the side of the desk while the doctor got him a glass of water. The first time he’d ever given Jack a blood test, back when he was 13, he’d passed out and smacked his head off the path outside the surgery, and now he wasn’t allowed to leave until he’d had some cold water and a sit down. He supposed there were worse things to be saddled with than an over-cautious doctor, but it sometimes made him feel like a hopeless case.

 

And of course, he always got the talk.

 

Dr Atieno came back in, two glasses in his hands and a brown folder stuffed with note paper tucked under his arm. He put a glass in front of Jack with a smile, then turned to shuffle the folder into a drawer of his filing cabinet, slurping water from his own glass as he did so. Jack dropped the cotton-ball into the waste paper basket and picked up his water, already feeling guilty because he knew what was coming.

 

“Have you tried going to Denebrook? There’s a lot of little businesses there-”

 

“I already tried a couple of weeks ago. The only place that was hiring was just part-timers. I wouldn’t have made enough money to cover the travel back and forth.”

 

“Hrm… and nothing in the little village, ah…”

 

“Hobart’s Field? Naw, there’s hardly any business there anyway.”

 

Dr Atieno sighed. “So no luck on the job front. Is there any chance of me convincing you about the-”

 

“No benefits! I refuse to be a charity case when I can work,” Jack said firmly.

 

“Well, I admire your attitude. You and your mother’s. She said much the same thing to me the other day. Just…angrier.”

 

“I just…I’ll do anything before I make Mama leave her home. It could be worse.”

 

“It could already be worse. Wait until we get the tests back before you say anything like that,” the doctor replied gravely.

 

Jack gulped and nodded. He always made people use a condom, always used one himself on the rare occasions that somebody wanted him on top. Still, it wasn’t a writ-in-stone guarantee.

 

Dr Atieno reached across and patted him gently on the shoulder. “There are no signs of anything,” he told him gently.

 

“I…I’ll give up as soon as possible. It just _isn’t_ -”

 

“I know.”

 

Jack rubbed at his face and took another sip of his water. It was late afternoon and the yellowy light was cutting through the room at a harsh angle. His appointments were always the last of the day, give them a chance to talk.

 

Silence reigned for a few minutes, and then Dr Atieno spoke again.

 

“Has something…changed? With you?”

 

“Huh?” Jack replied smartly.

 

“I’m not sure what it is, but something tells me…have you met someone?”

 

Jack gaped, and knew he was gaping, but couldn’t quite stop it.

 

“I’m sorry, that was rather abrupt of me.”

 

“No! No, you…you’re right. But it can’t happen.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Given his recent feelings, Jack was surprised that he wasn’t already bawling.

 

“Yeah…with what I am-”

 

“Which won’t be forever,” Dr Atieno pointed out.

 

“And, well… he lives pretty far away. It’s so hard just to see him…”

 

“Is he worth the heartache?”

 

Jack glanced up and caught a brief glimpse of sadness in Dr Atieno’s eyes, just for a second.

 

“He…yeah. He’s wonderful. I…”

 

“You love him?”

 

“D’no,” Jack mumbled, turning his eyes to the window and half-shrugging one shoulder. “Prob’ly.”

 

Dr Atieno nodded. “Jack, when it comes to love, if it’s real, it’s worth an awful lot. It’s worth…yearning and longing and heartache, and whether it happens or not, it makes your life better. Do you get what I’m saying?”

 

Jack nodded weakly.

 

“It’s what life is all about.”

 

“Yeah,” Jack whispered.

 

Dr Atieno made a beckoning gesture, and they both leaned forward in their seats to put their arms around each other’s shoulders, the sides of their heads pressed together. Guy hug. Nice.

 

He said his goodbyes a little while later and left the surgery, still a little worried, but perhaps a little lighter at heart as well. The walk through the town was pleasant in the late afternoon sun. A group of little old men were having a good natured argument outside the library. Dr Prince was standing in the window of the veterinary centre’s reception, looking out at the street and yawning. The world seemed pleasantly peaceful.

 

Jack couldn’t help but think;

 

Was he in love?


	6. Chapter 6

The days passed quickly as Jack approached his job hunt with a new fervour. Each morning he got up as early as he could bear and left the house, a folder full of photocopied resumes under his arm, and set off for anywhere he hadn’t already tried. Stores and offices, cafes and workshops, busy places all…but not one with a job for him.

 

Sorry, we’re not hiring right now.

 

Sorry, you don’t have the necessary qualifications.

 

Sorry hun, I don’t think you’re the right guy for this.

 

You didn’t even finish high school? Are you kidding?

 

No luck.

 

Every night he was out working as hard as he could, wearing himself out, and always, _always_ dreading the sound of Mr Golightly’s voice or a cruel hand grabbing at him as he walked through the dark streets. It hadn’t happened, or at least not yet. So far Jack had managed to stay out of his way, but he knew Mr Golightly wasn’t done with him. It was more than a hunch; he knew, he knew all about it in awful detail.

 

The school had had his address on record, of course, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that Mr Golightly had known where to send his little notes. So far, it was a huge relief every time that Jack saw the post mark on the envelopes that meant each letter had been mailed rather than delivered by hand, that the creep hadn’t actually been over to the house. He could hardly bear to think of that bastard being within a yard of his Mama, even if there was a thick brick wall between them.

 

Thank heavens his Mama respected his privacy; every letter had been placed on his bed, unopened, for him to read when he got home each day. Their presence there made him want to change his sheets each time, but he couldn’t ask his Mama to leave them somewhere else without sounding crazy, so he bore it. But those damn letters…the language, the descriptions, the hideously imaginative threats which he knew, just _knew_ were intended to put him on edge and keep him there, chipping away at his nerves…

 

They were working.

 

He knew his Mama had noticed his tension, knew that she was worried about him. But what could he tell her that would make her feel better? Were there any words that could calm her without telling the truth and without compounding these damned lies he told her every day?

 

And any time he stopped thinking about Mr Golightly, it was only to make way for worries about money. Money, money Goddamned money! Every time he thought he’d made progress, every time he thought he’d managed to move them a little closer towards the black, something popped up and dragged them back. A final demand that they’d had no warning about ate up a whole week of Jack’s ‘wages’, along with the rest of the money from the coins. He’d had to go into Green Meadow again and sell the rest of them. He probably should have gone to another store or tried to find out if somebody would auction them for him or something, but he didn’t have the time or the knowledge. Luckily, the nice man from before had been even more delighted at Jack’s discovery of another stash of coins among his ‘Grandpa’s’ boxes of attic stuff, and told him how pleased his friend was with the last batch. Jack left the store with a thick wad of cash in his wallet, a promise to come again with any new discoveries on his lips, and a little light of hope in his heart.

 

The hope lasted until he got home and found, along with a shiny new Mr Golightly letter, a message from the bank about what they owed on the house, from when they’d had to remortgage. The coin money paid that problem off, Jack managing to get back out of the house and into town to deal with it before his Mama even realised he’d been back, it even got them to a place where they wouldn’t have to worry about that particular debt for a couple of months. But still, it was a drop in the ocean.

 

Then he’d found the newspaper pages, hidden under the seat pad of his Mama’s armchair. The job pages. Two little articles circled, both part time office jobs. Both ones that Jack had applied for only a couple of days before. She could still barely walk a lap of the yard without getting out of breath, no way in hell he was letting her go back to work! Given half a chance, she’d put herself last on her own list of priorities until it killed her and Jack was damned if he was going to let his own mother suffer.

 

Night after night, he’d been stalking the town’s streets, like an animal hunting, approaching people himself now, where before he’d have let them come to him. Guys he’d been with before seemed to like it for the most part, taking it as a compliment, like they didn’t know he was fucking desperate for money. He had again considered going bareback, like so many guys asked him for, but the shock of relief when Dr Atieno had given him back his test results, told him he was clean, had been so startlingly profound that he knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

 

Comfort was hard to come by. He’d been trying to avoid thinking about Finn too much, especially after what Dr Atieno had said. He wasn’t sure if he loved him, and even if he did, it wasn’t like it solved anything. He couldn’t have him. Every time the notion of it crept into his thoughts, it made his teeth clench and his chest hitch with the unfairness of it, and so every time the memory of Finn’s sweetly smiling face or his rumbling, tender voice crossed his mind, he determinedly turned his thoughts to something else.

 

But after so many long, long days of work and worry and - yes, if he was honest – sorrow, he was ready to think about him.

 

Oh God, he wanted Finn so much he could practically feel the warmth of his breath on his face.

 

These thoughts were tracking through his mind as he trekked slowly back home after a relatively productive evening. A couple of blowjobs and a pocket stuffed full of ten dollar bills, and it was all he could face for the day. This time of summer, the sun wasn’t quite all the way down yet, the sky shining black on one side of town and fading through orange and into purple and red on the other.

 

As soon as Jack saw the start of the path through the woods, lit by the fading daylight, he knew that he didn’t have the willpower to resist. His feet were carrying him through the trees before he even acknowledged what he was going to do, and he felt lighter with every step. The last bird calls of the day rang in the air above him, the scurrying steps of small animals rattling the branches of the ferns around his feet. The light of the setting sun threw deep shadows across his path, but it was still clear to him, as clear as day.

 

It was fully dark by the time he reached the tree, but the moon was high, shining glassy light down onto the steps at the foot of the trunk. He hadn’t thought about this part; the climb was disconcerting enough in the daylight, but now… he could only hope that the usual feeling of disconnection would guide his feet up the steps. And, sure enough, before he was even out of sight of the moonlit ground, his mind was in the clouds.

 

*

 

He had vaguely wondered several times if the place at the top of the tree had night and day like on the ground. The way time never seemed to pass while he was up there, it was hard to figure out. But as he stepped out of the mists at the top of the tree, he saw that the moon shone here too, gilding the shoots of Finn’s crops and the uneven, tilled ground. There was a faint light shining in one of the small windows of the cottage, a slight chill in the air. Jack wrapped his arms around himself and set off along the path.

 

As he had that first time, he squeezed in through the mail flap, letting it clunk closed behind him, and took in the room with a look. Some misshapen candles were lit on the table, dimly illuminating the room, leaving the corners of the cottage eerily dark. Finn was sitting on the edge of his wooden bed, the blankets pushed down as if he was just about to get in. He _was_ just about to get in it seemed. He looked up, surprised when he spotted Jack standing on the floor by the door, and crossed the room smiling broadly.

 

Butt naked, which was nice.

 

He crouched down right in front of Jack, providing an interesting view, and held out a hand for Jack to climb up onto.

 

“Hello Jackie,” he said, and his voice was as warm and sweet as cocoa. “It’s good to see you again.”

 

“You too. I missed you,” Jack replied, hugging Finn’s thumb as tightly as he could. Finn lifted him and held him near his face, and Jack reached out to wrap his arms around his stubbly jaw, craned up to kiss his chin.

 

Finn kept him close as he crossed back over to the bed, held him in cupped hands as he reclined, then propped him comfortably on his furry chest.

 

“So, little Jack,” he asked, “What’s been going on out in the world.”

 

It was on the tip of Jack’s tongue to spill everything, to pour out his heart about the whole mess…but he couldn’t. He couldn’t push Finn’s kindness again, couldn’t let him think that he only wanted him as a sympathetic ear.

 

“Things still aren’t great,” he admitted, “but we’re doing okay. The money from those coins you gave me was a huge help. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Finn replied, looking just a little pleased with himself. “You know, there are more-”

 

“No! No…I…don’t think I’m not grateful Finn, ‘cause I really am. But I don’t want to be a charity case, you know?”

 

Finn stared at him, studying his face carefully for a moment or two, before nodding. “Well, it’s your call Jackie, but the offer’s there still if you change your mind.”

 

“Thanks,” Jack replied, relieved, snuggling happily against Finn’s warm skin. Silence for a minute or two, delightful comfort of the rise and fall of Finn’s chest.

 

“Any more trouble? From that guy?”

 

Oh shit, how much to tell him? He didn’t want to lie, but…

 

“He’s been bugging me a little more, but not for sex. His wife found out he was sleeping with me… well, not me specifically. She’s leaving him though, and he says it’s my fault. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

 

“Sure?” asked Finn worriedly, then added “not like I could do anything about it if you weren’t, but-”

 

“I know. Thanks for asking. I’m okay though, really,” Jack said, with a tone of ‘let’s move this conversation on to better places’ in his voice. He kissed Finn’s chest and rubbed at his fur a little. “You know, you’re naked, and I…I could easily be naked too…”

 

Finn laughed happily, inadvertently shaking Jack up and down on top of him until Jack was helpless with giggles. Rolling onto his side, still laughing, he yanked off both his shoes, then peeled off his socks and tucked them inside, only realising then that he’d set the shoes down on Finn like he was the floor. He glanced up and Finn was grinning at him.

 

“Comfy?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Gimme those, if they get in the blankets we’ll never find them.”

 

Jack placed his shoes in Finn’s outstretched hand, then managed to stand up on the slope of Finn’s right pec and took off his shirt. Finn was staring at him, happy and dopey eyed. That was a good look on him. Jack turned himself around and wiggled a little as he slipped off his jeans, which raised another little chuckle, this one hastily squashed, so as to avoid knocking Jack off his feet and sending him rolling down Finn’s stomach.

 

Jack handed him the rest of the clothes, sat again while Finn leaned over to place them on the floor next to the bed, and then, once Finn had laid down again, flumped himself forward to spread himself over Finn’s warm skin, arms outstretched. “This okay?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, this is just sweet.”

 

“Yeah,” Jack murmured back.

 

He just lay there for a few minutes, enjoying himself, enjoying the feel and smell of Finn. A huge warm hand settled next to him, radiating heat, and Finn’s thumb stroked up and down his back. The skin was deeply calloused, but the sheer expanse of the skin made it feel ripply rather than rough. Felt good. How nice it was to feel that warming spread of arousal without the worry of what a person would want from him. How soothing it was to know that he was safe with this man who made him feel so good.

 

He dragged himself away from Finn’s touch and knelt up, then turned to look down, along Finn’s relaxed body. His cock was hard, which was quite gratifying given that all Jack had done was wiggle his butt and then hug him.

 

“You mind if I…go exploring?” he asked, gesturing towards Finn’s groin. Finn smiled.

 

“You do whatever you wish, little Jackie. I doubt there’s a thing you could do that wouldn’t raise my spirits.”

 

That was sweet enough that Jack felt his cheeks colour, and he carefully made his way down Finn’s chest and stomach, minding not to put his feet and hands anywhere tender. He probably needn’t have worried, Finn’s body was all firm muscle, like walking on a brand new mattress, and once he got as far as his abdomen Jack was able to stand up and walk properly, his own excited dick bobbing along in front of him. He was grinning to himself when he reached his target.

 

Finn’s cock lay almost against his belly, the foreskin about half peeled back and a glossy droplet of liquid nestled in the slit. Glancing back up at Finn’s lazily smiling face, Jack reached out to run a hand from the base of the glans and down, over silky skin, feeling the thump of blood through the veins beneath. There was a pleased sounding murmur from Finn’s end of the bed, so Jack sat himself down and settled in to touch and feel to his heart’s content. He ended up sitting with his legs splayed to either side of the huge damn thing, the swollen head practically lying in his lap. Grinning to himself, half his mind was questioning his own sanity and the other half was wondering how he’d gone so far in his life without ever feeling so damn turned on as he was now.

 

Seriously, it felt like something was going to burst.

 

He spread his hands over the surface of the head, edging his fingers under the foreskin and helping to ease it back just a little more. The drop of fluid squeezed out of the slit and slid down until it dropped to land on Jack’s thigh, making him flinch at the heat of it. Shivering, unable to wipe the grin off his face, Jack slid his hands until his thumb touched the slit, pressing at the firm, slightly yielding flesh until another droplet began to well. Slid his thumb around in the slippery fluid.

 

Slid his thumb into the slit, and actually saw a little tremor run through the muscles in Finn’s legs. Took that as a good sign, and pulled it out, only to slide his index and middle fingers in. Finn gasped, and Jack looked back over his shoulder, to see Finn’s eyes, wide and bright, staring at him.

 

“That’s good, little Jackie,” he breathed.

 

Jack grinned, curling his fingers to feel the snug flesh flex around them. Slid them out and dipped his hand in the thin, ribbony stream of liquid now dribbling from the slit, and slid them back in, easing in his ring finger and then his pinky, and then the rest of his hand, in as deep as he could before the shape of his thumb got in the way. He flexed his hand, spread his fingers, wiggled them around and Finn groaned behind him, the sound reverberating through Jack’s body. He could feel Finn’s cock throbbing where the insides of his knees rested against the shaft. Suddenly, he had the perfect idea, and just went for it, did it before he thought too much and chickened out.

 

Keeping his squirming fingers in place, cupping his free hand on the curved surface of the tip, he slid his body down, raised his legs, and wrapped himself as best he could around the hot, solid shaft.

 

Finn _yelled_.

 

Both legs curled around the throbbing flesh, ankles hooked together, Jack discovered a new advantage to this; his own dick was pressed firmly against a particularly perfect expanse of smooth, smooth skin. His shoulders were on Finn’s abdomen, his hips hitched up into the air as he squeezed and thrust with his legs, his arms cramping as he kept his hand working at Finn’s slit, and the world was fucking perfect, absolutely perfect.

 

Panting like a dying man, Finn shifted under him, reached down, the sudden appearance of his hands taking Jack by surprise as one slid underneath him, holding him in place, and the other gripped the base of his shaft, fingers brushing against Jack’s ass and thighs as it stroked and squeezed…

 

And then semen was pouring out between Jack’s fingers as he pulled his hand free, pumping onto his face and dribbling down his chest, splattering over Finn’s stomach. Jack kept his legs tightly wrapped, feeling the shaft twitch and jump, until it was over. Finn lifted him away with trembling hands, holding him with such care, such tenderness, that Jack’s desperation only increased. He’d never needed to come so badly, he was almost sobbing with it.

 

But he was lifted away from Finn’s cock and, carefully stretching out his strained legs, lifted towards Finn’s handsome, flushed face.

 

“Oh Jack, oh you lovely creature Jack,” he breathed.

 

Jack knew he wasn’t lovely; he was red faced, panting, shaking and dripping with semen. But the lazy heat in Finn’s eyes told him that Finn saw something different entirely.

 

Something good enough to taste apparently.

 

His lips caressed the inside of Jack’s calf, followed by his tongue, which slid up his thigh, over his hip, his stomach, lapping the warm come from his skin at every turn. Up his chest and his neck, and Jack closed his eyes and mouth as Finn delicately cleaned his face.

 

And then, thank heavens above, Finn got down to business, stroking the tip of his tongue up the shaft of Jack’s cock, over and over, stopping infuriatingly, only to tilt Jack in his hands and tongue at the crack of his butt, squirm the tip behind his balls, then start on his cock again, making him pant and howl and clench his hands as hard as he could around Finn’s fingers. When he finally came it was with a huge sigh of relief, feeling his body relax beatifically, for the first time in what felt like months, and he peeled his eyes open to see Finn’s staring back at him, eyes clear and gleaming with happiness.

 

How in hell was he supposed to leave?

 

*

 

Finn let him lay there for a while, a few long, precious moments to pull himself together after what was undoubtedly the best sexual encounter of his entire life. Not that there was much to compare it to, all things considered. But still, it deserved the accolade.

 

 

“Finn?” Jack said softly, not quite sure what he was asking. Finn stared evenly at him for several long seconds, then pulled out his chair and sat down by the table, leaning forward so he was as close as he could get to face-to-face with Jack.

 

“Jackie…” Finn’s eyes left Jack’s face to search corners of the room. Jack stayed silent, stretching out his legs in the water so he could raise his face above the edge of the bowl.

 

“Jackie, I worry that I’m…making you worse. Your situation.”

 

Jack felt struck dumb. “Wh… _how_! You…you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in so long Finn, and-”

 

“And it can’t be, Jack,” Finn replied miserably, and Jack’s heart turned a sickening flip in his chest.

 

“I…I realised a long time ago, you know. That I’m stuck up here for good. And I know that I pretty much deserve it. And you…you’re…”

 

He faltered there, rubbing his hand over his face briefly, before turning his shining eyes back on Jack.

 

“I wouldn’t ask my worst enemy to live up here Jack. And every time you’ve come here, even though I’m so fucking happy to see you I could cry…I keep thinking, what if you get stuck here too? What if that thing in the tree closes and you can’t get back, what if that extra minute we spend lying together, or talking, or walking around costs you your whole fucking life.”

 

He rubbed his face again, tears rolling down his cheeks now. Jack could feel tears of his own, cold in the corners of his eyes, trickling down into the warm water.

 

“You…Jack, I hate it but…I think you shouldn’t come up here anymore.”

 

Jack couldn’t hold it back any longer and let out a damp sob, averting his eyes from the worried flinch he knew crossed Finn’s face at the sound. It was true, it was all true, and it was sickeningly clear to him now; he was in love and it couldn’t be.

 

Finn’s hands slipped into the cooling water in the bowl and cupped around him, holding him so gently, so comfortingly, how the hell was he supposed to leave? _How_!?

 

“You’re right,” he replied finally, looking up at Finn’s sorrowful face. “I hate it too, but you’re right.”

 

*

 

It felt so much darker when Finn opened the cottage door, like the earlier darkness had been amateur nightfall, and now they had the real thing. Jack sat on the edge of the table, dressed again now, waiting for Finn to come back from checking that the tree was…open or whatever. A minute or so passed before he returned, a sad look on his handsome face that told Jack that, yes, everything was as it should be and, no, he wasn’t happy about it.

 

“I’m not saying that you shouldn’t ever come back,” he offered quietly, as he crouched by the table to look Jack in the eye. “You ever need me, I’ll help you as best I can. I’ll always be here Jackie.”

 

“Thank you,” Jack replied. It didn’t sound like quite enough, but he wasn’t sure he could speak much more without ending up in tears.

 

Finn looked worriedly at him for a few moments more, then sighed and ran his hands over his hair. “Do me a favour, huh?” he asked.

 

Jack hadn’t been expecting that. He looked up at him and nodded.

 

“Okay, so maybe two favours. Stay the hell away from that Golightly guy, alright? Be a total fucking coward if you have to, just don’t let him near you.”

 

“I won’t,” Jack promised, and raised one hand to draw a little ‘X’ over his heart. Finn accepted this and continued.

 

“Second thing is…will you…could you take Goldie with you?”

 

“What, seriously?”

 

“Seriously. Up here she’s all alone and pissy all the time. I mean, maybe pissy’s normal for a goose, I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem right. If you’ve got her she could have, like…”

 

“A gander?” Jack suggested.

 

“Yeah. And she could have babies or something. A flock maybe. What do you say?”

 

Jack didn’t really have to think about it. Nobody should turn down the opportunity of a gander and a flock. “Sure.”

 

“I mean, I know it’s asking a lot because you can’t really-”

 

“It’s okay Finn, of course I’ll take her. But are you certain you want me to?”

 

“Of…of course. Yeah.”

 

Neither of them had to say it, but the thought was there; then Finn really would be all alone.

 

Finn went outside for a few minutes, and Jack heard him calling out ‘goldiegoldiegoldie’ in the distance. Cried a little more into his hands and had to wipe his face on the collar of his t-shirt.

 

Then Finn returned and handed the confused and squirmy Goldie to Jack, picked the both of them up and set off down the path towards the tree.

 

Holding the goose carefully in his arms, Jack leaned up to press a last too-small kiss on Finn’s face, before Finn set him down by the top of the steps.

 

It was all he could do not to look back.

 

*

 

As usual, thinking didn’t really happen while he was on his way down the steps, but by the time he reached the bottom and stepped back onto the path, his face was covered in tears and his sinuses were hurting. Goldie was still but fretful in his arms, and he paused on the path for a few minutes, stroking her feathers and whispering wordlessly to her until she seemed to calm.

 

What was he going to tell his Mama about her? He couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t raise far too many questions. He guessed that he’d just have to hope something distracted her. On the plus side, Goldie was behaving herself pretty well, or at least as far as Jack could tell she was. She could have just been tired, or maybe in shock even, but she sat sensibly and quietly against his chest as he carried her, occasionally craning her long neck to look at the woods around them.

 

By the time he got home, she was definitely sleepy, her head nodding with the rhythm of each step he took. He was half convinced that she’d start honking or flapping or something the minute he got through the door, and his Mama would rush out of her room and freak.

 

But no, she stayed silent, until he got into the kitchen and set her down on the floor. Even then, the only sound she made was the _slapslapslap_ of her big flat feet on the linoleum as she wandered around the room, poking her beak into corners. Jack got himself a glass of water and watched her explore for a few minutes. Only then did it occur to him that he had no idea how to care for a goose.

 

Water for a start, right? Everything liked some nice fresh water. He found an oven dish that was too solid for her to knock over and filled it from the tap. That had been a good move, because as soon as he put it down on the floor, she pattered over to it and stuck her nose in.

Okay, good start.

 

Did geese sleep on nests? He hoped so, because otherwise he just had no damn idea.

 

He got a big, round, shallow Tupperware box that his Mama used for taking pies to baking contests back in the day, and set it on the floor near the water bowl. A clean dish towel would make a comfy lining, he decided, with a layer of torn up newspaper underneath, in case she peed in it. This marvel of animal care assembled, he looked around the room and briefly considered putting down newspaper for her to do her business on, but then decided that the only way to make that work was to paper the whole floor, and he was too damn tired. If she did anything, he’d clean it up in the morning.

 

Patting her feathers gently, he said goodnight to her and switched out the kitchen light, watching for a moment to make sure she didn’t panic, but she was perfectly calm. Sleepy calm.

 

So Jack closed the kitchen door and went to his bedroom.

 

Got undressed and got into bed.

 

Cried himself to sleep.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Jack woke up a little earlier than he’d have maybe liked, as was often the way when he was upset. Still able to feel the soreness in his eyes from when he’d been crying, he considered just pulling the pillow over his head and trying to go back to sleep. However, he then remembered the goose that was loose in the kitchen and decided that he had better things to do with his morning.

 

Stumbling into the kitchen, half-convinced he was going to find the place in a shambles, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the damage was minimal. There was a neat little pile of poop near the table and a bit of water was splashed on the floor, along with a few of the scraps of shredded newspaper he’d made the nest with. Goldie herself was sitting in the bowl of water he’d set out, and as he walked in she raised her wings and gave him a dirty look.

 

Probably hungry, Jack thought, and opened the cabinet.

 

Shit, what did geese eat?

 

He remembered feeding the ones on the lake bread, but that couldn’t be their main diet, right? They lived in water, so maybe fish? Or…wait, no didn’t they eat grass or something?

 

Shit.

 

Well, Mr McElgar had ducks on his farm, he might know something about geese. And Jack was pretty sure that Dr Prince down at the veterinary clinic wouldn’t be averse to giving a down-on-his-luck guy a bit of free waterfowl advice. And there was always the library too, though he doubted that their little branch would have anything so specific as a book on caring for geese, but there was bound to be some book with a few hints.

 

He ripped up some bread and put it on a saucer, then opened the back door and reached out to pull up a handful of grass. By the time he turned back around, Goldie was out of the bowl and heading for the bread, so Jack picked up and refilled the water, rinsing the grass under the tap while he was at it. Breakfast served, Goldie tossed crumbs and little bits of grass around the floor with gusto, while Jack sat down to eat his cornflakes. She was sweet, like a little kid trying to get to grips with something new.

 

Jack sat and watched her for quite a while after he’d finished eating, and it was only when he looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly time for his mama to wake up that he realised he hadn’t come up with a story to explain Goldie yet. Hell, maybe he’d get lucky and something would happen to distract her.

 

He gently scooted Goldie out into the yard, where she immediately started poking through the grass, then cleaned up and bleached the floor where she’d pooped. The broom took care of the bits of bread and grass, then he emptied out the water bowl and picked up the nest to find…

 

Wow.

 

There was an egg!

 

A big, perfect egg with a dimpled, tawny brown shell, still slightly warm when he picked it up. Easily twice the size of a chicken’s egg, if not more. He remembered Finn saying that she laid eggs fairly regularly, but the idea of it had seemed so abstract…yet here it was. The back door was open and Goldie was still pottering about outside, seemingly unmoved by Jack’s discovery. Well, it wasn’t like there was going to be a baby goose any time soon, right?

 

“Hey Goldie-goose,” Jack called softly. “You mind if I have this? You mind if I make some nice food for my Mama with it?”

 

Goldie glanced at him, honked, then went back to whatever it was in the grass that was so interesting. Smiling, Jack set the egg down, grabbed a saucepan and reached down a book from the little shelf above the fridge. The Cookery Course book, he had learned as a child, could tell him how to do pretty much everything in the kitchen, up to and including how to get rid of the milk he’d burned onto the bottom of a pan right after his Mama had told him _not_ to…well, it was a useful book. And it didn’t let him down now, either. Goose eggs, fried, boiled or poached. Mama always seemed to prefer poached eggs, so Jack filled the pan with water and got it boiling, then carefully followed the instructions for breaking the egg into a bowl and stirring the water up before sliding the weirdly juicy looking egg in.

 

The yolk was a gorgeous colour, a really deep orange. Jack had never seen anything like it and in their dim little kitchen it almost seemed to glow. The egg cooked quickly, so Jack made some toast and buttered it, and had it and the egg arranged neatly on a plate by the time he heard his Mama’s alarm clock go off.

 

Perfect.

 

“Stay put Mama, I made you breakfast in bed!” he called to her, and heard her half-startled, half-surprised exclamation as he put the plate and some cutlery on a tray and carried it out of the kitchen.

 

She was sitting up in bed when he got there, smiling at him as she ran a brush through her hair, the brightest thing in the room in her pink and white pyjamas. He waited for her to arrange herself a little better, then carefully propped the tray on her lap.

 

“Here you go Mama, goose egg a la Jack.”

 

She giggled. “Oh sweetie, that’s so thoughtful. Where on earth did you get a goose egg from?”

 

Damn.

 

“Try it Mama, see if it tastes okay.”

 

Thankfully, she didn’t pursue it any further, instead picking up the cutlery and carefully cutting into the egg. The yolk oozed out onto the plate as she sliced through the white and she gasped.

 

“What a _lovely_ colour. This must be very fresh.”

 

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, hoping like hell that Goldie didn’t choose that moment to start honking or something.

 

His Mama cut a modest bite of the egg and tasted it, working it around her mouth with care as he’d often seen her do when sampling the first forkful of a new recipe. Slowly a smile spread over her face.

 

“It’s delicious. I’ve never tasted anything quite like it,” she breathed. She cut a little more and held the fork up to Jack, ignoring his insistence that he’d already eaten breakfast and waiting until he sat down on the edge of the bed and took the bite. She was right though, it was really tasty. Apart from just the flavour of it, which was rich and surprisingly meaty, once he swallowed the bite, it felt like his mouth was…refreshed.

 

His Mama ate as much of the egg as she could then cut the rest up and fed it to him, chuckling as she did so. Then they shared the toast, using it to mop up the remains of the yolk. And it was so nice, _so_ nice to just sit here with his Mama, both of them feeling well fed and grinning. She put his arms around his waist and squeezed him hard, making them both laugh. How long since he’d felt like this? How long since he’d felt cheerful?

 

Things weren’t great. He missed Finn, if he let himself think about it, and he still had no idea how he was going to get them out of this hole, but if this morning could go so well, after last night had seemed to bad, then surely…

 

“Sweetie, you never told me where you got that egg from.”

 

“Uh…”

 

Oh God, a distraction, anything, he’d take anything…

 

The doorbell rang.

 

“Hang on Mama, I’m gonna go answer the door.” _Thank you!_

 

She let go of him and he jumped up and ran for the hall. As soon as he got out of the bedroom he could see Dr Atieno’s face through the glass panel in the front door, and his heart jumped in his chest. He snatched open the door.

 

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, horribly aware that he was being rude but unable to help it. Dr Atieno’s face was worried.

 

“Jack, it’s not your mother. I need to talk to you. Is your mother in? Can you and I talk in private?”

 

Jack nodded tensely, as his stomach twisted into a knot. Oh God, what if they’d mixed up the test results? What if the blood tests had shown up cancer or something? What if something else was going to go horribly wrong?

 

He ushered Dr Atieno into the living room and pulled the door to, not wanting to disturb his Mama with the loud snap of the latch. Dr Atieno patted his shoulder comfortingly, but the worried expression on his face undid any positive effect.

 

“What is it?” Jack asked, shocked at how weak his own voice sounded.

 

“I can’t give you a lot of the details,” Dr Atieno began, his measured voice sounding like he’d rehearsed what he was going to say. “It’s because of patient confidentiality. But I found out that a local man has a very serious condition, and I’m worried that it might be one of your customers.”

 

“Oh God, does he have…”

 

Dr Atieno nodded, watching Jack’s face. “Now I know your tests came back clean, and they were, there’s no mistake. But I’m worried that this patient may be one of your…your customers. He was unwilling to discuss with me if he’d slept with anyone recently, but I want to ask you a few questions, see if I can find out if you’re in danger without…well, without breaking too many rules.”

 

“Sure,” Jack croaked, grateful and horrified in equal measure.

 

“Okay…have you had unprotected anal inter-”

 

“No, I always make them use a rubber, and I check it afterwards to make sure it didn’t break.”

 

“Good, that’s great news,” Dr Atieno replied, a little of the tension dropping from his shoulders. “Okay, I’m going to tell you as much as I can about this guy, and I want to know if it rings any bells, okay?”

 

Jack nodded.

 

“Since you had the tests, have you done anything – _anything_ – with a Caucasian, blond man in his forties.”

 

Jack racked his brain and nodded, feeling his breath hitch. Every one of his customers was printed on his memories by habit, so he knew who to approach in the future. “That could have been either of a couple of guys I went with recently,” he added. Dr Atieno sighed and continued.

 

“Okay, I’ll think of more detail. Uh…he’s a short man, a little shorter than you maybe, and has freckles…uh-”

 

“No! No, I’ve not even seen anybody like that!” Jack cried, ebullient with relief. No blond guy that age and that short, at least not since his last round of tests, or even the ones before that.

 

He and Dr Atieno both let out whooping sighs, so fucking relieved. It was okay, it was all okay again…

 

And then the worst possible thing…

 

“Jack?”

 

His Mama was standing in the doorway. Both of them had been so focussed on each other they hadn’t seen her arrive, but she couldn’t have possibly heard…she couldn’t possibly have understood-

 

“Jack, why…sweetie, why are you both worried about doing s-something with this…this man?”

 

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. He couldn’t think of anything to say. The only words in his mind were a horrible litany of _this is it this is it this is it_.

 

“Helena, I-”

 

“John…I’m sorry, but I think you should leave Jack and I to talk for a while. Please.”

 

Dr Atieno glanced from Jack to his Mama and back, clearly worried, clearly having come to the same conclusion that Jack had; it was time for everything to come out.

 

After a few abortive attempts to say something reasonable, Dr Atieno mumbled a request that he be called should he be needed, and left. Jack’s Mama didn’t even turn to see him out the door, she just stepped further into the living room and closed the door behind her.

 

“Jack what were…it sounded like you were talking about some kind of illness…” her words trailed off into worry, and even if it meant her knowing everything, Jack couldn’t bear to let her be so upset. There were already tears in the corners of her eyes.

 

“We were talking about VD Mama, he was worried I might have caught one.”

 

She nodded vaguely and eased herself into her armchair. “You were talking about several…several different people you could have caught it from. Weren’t you? I didn’t get that wrong?”

 

She sounded breathless. Jack opened the desk drawer and took out her inhaler, handing it to her and waiting for her to take a puff from it before he answered.

 

“You heard it right Mama.”

 

“Oh Jack,” she breathed, his name coming out as a sob. “What on earth have you been doing?”

 

It was too late to lie now, and for the first time, Jack realised how desperately he’d been wanting to come clean all along.

 

So he took a deep breath, and he told her. He told her everything.

 

He sat down in front of her and told her about how it all started and why he had kept doing it and why he lied, explained it all as best he could, except that he didn’t want to scare her too much and he couldn’t stop crying.

 

She was crying too, silently, her expressive face stilled by horror as the tears rolled freely down her cheeks. At any moment, Jack expected to be yelled at, lashed out at, pushed away…but he should have known better of his own mother, and when the retelling of it became too much, when he could no longer force words out through the tears, she crossed the room to him and gathered him into her arms, like she had when he was a tiny child.

 

She told him it was all okay, that it was all over.

 

He believed her. Oh God, it felt so good to believe her.

 

*

 

Jack did his best to explain everything, but by the time he’d told her as much as he could bear, he had begun to realise that it made no sense. Why had he gone on with this for so long? He’d been so stupid.

 

Once they had both calmed down, she had sent him to have a shower and get dressed, and to get copies of The Mirror and The Harrier, the newspapers of the City, so that they could look for an apartment and for jobs. In the space of a morning their future was decided. They’d sell their little home once and for all and go looking for an easier place to live.

 

Jack would be lying if he were to say he wasn’t upset. He wouldn’t just be leaving the town, the house, the home he’d known for all his life…he’d be leaving his father’s memory, his childhood.

 

He’d be leaving Finn.

 

And yes, the more distance between himself and Mr Golightly the better, but all the same he couldn’t suppress a sense of perverse pride at his success in supporting himself with his body for so long. It was dirty and shameful, but he’d done it. He’d kept their lives going.

 

His mama hated the city. She hated how busy it was, how the people behaved, the noise and the size of everything. But they were going. It was their only real chance now. Jack wasn’t sure what he’d do about Goldie, but he was pretty certain that if they couldn’t get a place that would let them keep her as a pet, then the city farm he’d visited a few years ago would probably welcome a tame goose, and at least he could go and visit her.

 

When he got home his mama was in the back yard, scattering something on the ground out of a paper bag and watching Goldie peck it up. She’d probably gone and begged a favour from Mr McElgar. Jack opened the papers on the kitchen table and found the jobs pages. Lots of stuff going, nothing that caught his attention, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

 

“Are you okay sweetie?” his mama asked from the doorway, her voice far too serious for the words she spoke.

 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Just…planning.”

 

She nodded and walked over to put her arm around his back.

 

They both sat down at the table and planned, organised, made page upon page of notes, until it was late and they were both tired, worn out from work and worry. Both of them were still restless from the shocks of the day, but they sensibly abandoned their work on the table and headed off to bed.

 

For the first time since he was a child, Jack slept the night on the little sofa in his mama’s bedroom.

 

*

 

Next morning was beautiful, the sun gleaming warmly through the curtains from a cloudless cornflower sky. Jack decided to take it as a good omen. He showered and dressed and then, while his mama was getting up, went to feed Goldie some more of the grain and clean up the kitchen after her. Done cleaning, he carefully ignored the messy pile of newspapers and notepads on the table and went out to join his goose in the yard for a few minutes, enjoying the sunshine. After a moment, he heard familiar footsteps tromping down the path on the other side of the fence.

 

“Hi Mr McElgar!” he called, and jogged across the grass to open the little back gate.

 

“Hello there Jack,” their neighbour replied. “How’s things?”

 

Mr McElgar was a kind, friendly man who’d always been a good neighbour to them, and Jack really didn’t want to lie to him. But something told him, deep in his guts, that he shouldn’t tell him they were leaving just yet.

 

“Things…things are going along as usual Mr McElgar. How is your wife?”

 

Mr McElgar let his enquiry drop and proceeded to tell Jack a funny story about Mrs McElgar thinking she’d seen a wolf in the woods and screaming the house down before realising that it had been a trick of the light. Well, maybe not that funny, but it was all in the way he told them.

 

“So there am I, I’d been about to take a bath so I’m in a bathrobe, and I rushed down the stairs thinking we were being pillaged or somethin’,”

 

“Ha!”

 

“I grab the rifle from the den and rush out, and Melissa says to me ‘It’s okay baby, I just got swindled by some trees’! Swindled!”

 

Jack laughed out loud, and Mr McElgar did too, wheezing and leaning over to put his hands on his knees. A sudden little pain shot through Jack’s heart; he was really going to miss living here.

 

“So,” Mr McElgar continued once he’d calmed down. “Your Mother told me you got a goose?”

 

“Yeah, you gave her some grain, right? Thanks for that.” Jack stepped aside from the gate way so that Mr McElgar could look into the garden and see where Goldie was pottering around.

 

“Hm, don’t recognise the breed,” Mr McElgar noted, peering carefully at her. “Healthy looking bird though, female right? Probably be a good layer if you look after her properly.”

 

“She already laid an egg yesterday morning,” Jack told him. “I cooked it for Mama’s breakfast.”

 

“Yeah, goose eggs are a treat. ‘Course, goose meat-”

 

“Oh no,” Jack exclaimed. “We couldn’t eat her. She’s really like a pet. I told a friend I’d look after her ‘cause he couldn’t anymore and I really want to give her a nice life. If I can.”

 

Mr Mc Elgar nodded in that sage-like way he had and glanced around the small square of the yard. “You’re going to need a shelter for her then. Something to keep the weather off and the foxes out. I got some boards left over from when I took down an old shed that got its roof blown off in those gales last winter. They’re a little worn but good and sturdy still. You want ‘em, they’re yours.”

 

Jack felt his face flush with a weird mix of happiness and sorrow. “That’s real kind Mr McElgar, I’d like to take you up on that, but…can you give me a couple of days? I…er-”

 

“Sure I can Jack, no worries.” Mr McElgar had probably gathered that something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. He gave Jack a hair ruffle, the same way he had done for the last twenty years, said a cheerful goodbye and carried on his way along the path. Jack stood in the gate way and waved until he was out of sight around the corner, then shut the gate.

 

He stood there for a moment rubbing his eyes, until Goldie came up and pecked at the knee of his jeans.

 

Several minutes later, halfway through an invigorating game of Kill the Shoelace, Jack and Goldie were both brought up short by the strident ring of the doorbell. Involuntarily, Jack winced. It was about the same time of day as when Dr Atieno had called yesterday, and look how that had gone!

 

But his mama was yelling from the bedroom for him to answer it as she wasn’t dressed yet, so he jogged through the house and opened the front door. It was so unusual to be visited by a stranger that it took him several seconds to realise that he didn’t recognise the young woman standing on the doorstep.

 

“Good morning,” she said pleasantly. “Would this be the household of Mrs Helena Bean?”

 

“Y-yes?” Jack responded weakly. She wore a business suit and carried a briefcase with her, but for some reason she didn’t seem like one of the debt collector types, and he’d have seen her before if she worked for the bank. “I’m her son. Can I ask why you’re calling?”

 

She looked slightly abashed. “I’m only allowed to discuss the matter with Mrs Bean directly,” she said in apologetic tones, as she slid a business card out of a pocket on the side of her case. “But I can assure you I’m not soliciting anything, and I’m not going to try and get money out of you. Here.”

 

She handed him the card and he looked carefully at it. Her name was Myra Buford and she worked for a company called Number Arts. He recognised it vaguely, but all he could call to mind was that they were involved with something he’d seen on TV.

 

He nodded and stepped back from the door. “Would you like to come in? My Mother’s just getting ready but she’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

 

Looking relieved, Miss Buford followed him into the living room and took a seat on the sofa, politely accepting his offer of a cup of coffee. By the time he returned from the kitchen with the tray, his mama had come in and was shaking hands with Miss Buford, who was giving her another one of those business cards. Jack set the cups down and went to sit on the end of the window seat nearest to his mama’s chair.

 

“Number Arts?” his mama read off the card as she sat. “I recognise that company, but I can’t think where from.”

 

“We get that a lot, Mrs Bean,” Miss Buford replied politely. “You may have heard the name on the television or radio. We’re the company that organises the regional lottery.”

 

Jack felt a shock run through him, and could tell from the look on his mama’s face that she’d felt the same thing. It couldn’t be for real though, surely? Neither of them ever played the lottery.

 

“My job is to track down unclaimed winnings and try to find the people who’ve won them,” Miss Buford explained, opening her briefcase. “About three years ago, a ticket was bought in this area for a number that later won a sum of money. It wasn’t the jackpot, but it was a fairly substantial win, so when nobody had claimed it within two years, I was asked to investigate. It’s taken some time, because for the longest time it looked like there was no way of finding out who had bought the ticket, but just recently I had a revelation.”

 

She smiled with a hint of pride on her face and glanced between Jack and his mama. “We knew that the ticket had been sold from a local supermarket,” she continued. “but it had been paid for with cash, so we couldn’t trace it to a specific person.”

 

“So what led you to me?” Jack’s mama asked, frowning slightly.

 

“I realised that the ticket had been bought during a week when there was a special promotion happening. The company said that, for every ticket bought that week above the total of the previous week, they’d donate twenty five dollars to various charities. I interviewed the employee who ran the supermarket counter that sold the ticket with that in mind and to my surprise, he remembered something; the only person who bought a ticket that week who didn’t usually buy one was you.”

 

Jack looked at his mama’s face, expecting her to deny it, but instead her face was lit with understanding; she remembered buying it, he was sure of it.

 

“He remembered you specifically,” Miss Buford went on, “because you mentioned the charity promotion, and he thought you were particularly generous because-” she suddenly realised that she’d talked herself into an awkward corner and flushed. “Because, uh…he knew you had some money problems.”

 

“I remember buying it,” Jack’s mama said thoughtfully, “but I never even thought to check the numbers afterwards. I just wanted some money to go to the charity. One of the groups on the poster was for bereaved families, and it wasn’t long since my husband had died…but I can’t remember what the heck I did with it. I’m sure I didn’t throw it out though…”

 

“Well, I’m afraid we need that ticket Mrs Bean,” Miss Buford said. “There’s no other solid evidence that it was you who bought the ticket. Are you sure you haven’t seen it around? It would be on blue-green paper with black print and my company’s logo on the back.”

 

Jack’s mama thought carefully, then shook her head.

 

“How long do we have to find it?” Jack asked.

 

Miss Buford glanced down into her briefcase worriedly before she spoke. “Like I said, it took so long to find a clue in this case…tomorrow is the last day the money can be claimed. You’ll have until midday.”

 

Jack felt his mouth fall open. No way. No way in hell would they be able to find a tiny lottery ticket in – he glanced at the clock – twenty seven hours.

 

His mama straightened in her chair and smacked her palms down onto her knees in a gesture of determination. “Well,” she said brightly. “We’d better get searching!”

 

*

 

An hour later, Jack was going through the drawers of the little desk and filing cabinet that were tucked in a corner of the living room. He and his mama had been through them so many times in the last few years as they arranged and rearranged their financial papers to try and make them seem less depressing that he couldn’t believe they could have missed anything. But Mama had said no stone unturned, and Jack was there, turning stones.

 

To their surprise, Miss Buford had stayed to help out and was dutifully checking each book in the book case, flipping and shaking out the pages to see if there was anything stuck inside. So far she’d found four bookmarks, one plastic picnic knife acting as a bookmark, a photograph of Jack aged 5 at the beach, and a spider. No ticket.

 

Mama was in her bedroom going through every drawer and cabinet, turning out pockets and looking under liners. Every now and then, they clearly heard her sigh.

 

*

 

Three hours into the search and the doorbell rang. Jack answered it to the McElgars, who bore a book full of blueprints for various farm buildings, including a goose enclosure. Jack found himself once again overwhelmed with gratitude, and would probably have ended up crying on them if Mrs McElgar hadn’t looked down the hallway at the carnage behind him and asked “What the heck is going on?”

 

“Melissa? Is that you?” Jack’s mama called to her, and came out of her bedroom, hair full of dust bunnies, to greet them politely. She quickly explained the situation and, gaping with disbelief, Mr and Mrs McElgar bustled into the house, rolled up their sleeves and asked where they should start searching. Mama tried to tell them it wasn’t necessary, that they didn’t need to, but they’d already started taking the cushions off the sofa, which Jack and Miss Buford hadn’t even _thought_ of. Surely with the five of them they’d get it done quickly.

 

*

 

Around two, Jack’s mama went in the kitchen and made drinks and sandwiches for everybody. The five of them, all dusty and red in the face, sat around the little kitchen table and discussed what they’d searched and what was left. Mama sadly admitted that she’d never realised how much stuff she had, or how tiny something like a lottery ticket really was. The McElgars and Miss Buford all cheerfully began dividing up the remaining places to search among themselves, but Jack was watching his mama. Her eyes were tired and sad, her shoulders drooping. It wasn’t just the illness, he could tell, though he had no idea how she’d lasted as long as she had without becoming exhausted.

 

This was something much worse; this was being handed hope, then realising that it could so easily be taken away. Twenty two hours left now, and most of the house still to be searched. The elation of that morning had faded to a more realistic doubt; by tomorrow afternoon, they could so easily be back in the sad situation they’d started the day in. Jack got up and stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders with his palms to comfort her. She turned and smiled up at him, weak but still hopeful.

 

They got back to work.

 

*

 

At just after five that afternoon, Dr Atieno turned up. Miss Buford was closest to the door and so answered it, which confused him to no end. Once appraised of the situation, he awkwardly tried to apologise to Jack and his mama about what had happened yesterday, but Mama was in too practical a mood for apologies and put him straight to work on the larder.

 

The McElgars had hit a low patch earlier when their meticulous search of the little attic space had turned up nothing, and the disappointment had sapped their energy for a while. Mrs McElgar had got her second wind and was attacking the Stuff drawer in the kitchen, but Mr McElgar was still all droopy and worried, and had gone out into the yard for a breath of air. Jack took a brief break from his hunt around his own room and looked out the window to check on him, to see him playing Kill the Shoelace with Goldie…possibly involuntarily.

 

Miss Buford stuck her head around the door to see if he needed a hand, but he wasn’t going to let anyone else go through his room; who knew what embarrassing shit they might end up finding?

 

“It must be out of your work hours by now,” he told her. “You’ve been a huge help, but don’t feel you’ve got to stay here all night or something. You’ve done so much already.”

 

She smiled, just a touch embarrassed. “I know, but I really want to see this through. You’re nice people, I hope you get it.”

 

That was sweet. Jack mentally added her name to his list of good people. “Thank you. You want to go and get Mr McElgar and help him look in the garden shed?” he asked.

 

She nodded and went out into the yard.

 

*

 

At seven, Jack’s mama flew into his room all of a fluster and cried out “What if it was in the car!?”

 

Jack couldn’t explain it, but he knew it hadn’t been. “Mama,” he asked, “Did you ever take the car to the supermarket?”

 

“No, I always walked.”

 

“I think it’s pretty unlikely that it was in there then.”

 

She nodded agreement, then sighed and let her chin drop to her chest. Her shoulder hitched a little and Jack hurried across the room to put his arms around her. This was so fucking difficult, and he knew that all either of them was thinking was ‘ _what if we get it, what if we don’t? what if we get it, what if we don’t?_ ’ a terrible mantra that had been going around in his head since that morning.

 

“We’ll get it Mama,” he told her softly. “This feels right. Don’t you think so?”

 

“Yes,” she replied, her voice shaky.

 

They kept searching.

 

*

 

It was just getting dark when Jack heard the slapping goose footsteps in the bathroom. Everyone in the house was tired and restless and disappointed and hopeful, the atmosphere so taught he felt like he could have plucked it and heard a note. The last thing they needed was Kill the Shoelace: Indoors Edition going on.

 

He rushed into the bathroom to find Goldie standing in the middle of the floor, looking around curiously. The bathroom had been the first place he and his mama had searched, way back at the beginning of the morning when they’d still been putting things back in place as they went along, so it was still pretty tidy in there, goose notwithstanding.

 

“C’mon Goldie, let’s get you back outdoors,” Jack said to her gently and reached down to pick her up. As he did so, he noticed that there was an egg on the floor. “Aw Goldie, you really picked your moment there!”

 

“Jack? Are you in there?” his mama called from the hallway.

 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a moment Mama.”

 

Seeing Goldie indoors would stress her out probably, and there was no way he could sneak the goose out past her, but he could at least hide the egg. He set Goldie back down on the floor, picked up the warm egg and opened the little cabinet underneath the basin.

 

Where to put it so that it couldn’t roll around? he thought. There was an old vinyl shaving kit bag that had belonged to his Dad on the bottom shelf of the cabinet, folded flat and stuck near the back. His mama had gotten a little misty eyed when she saw it that morning, but Jack was glad it was there now. If he opened it up, the egg would sit in it neatly.

 

He pulled it out of the cabinet.

Undid the zipper…

 

And there was a little slip of blue-green paper inside, dot matrix printed numbers on one side and a Number Arts logo on the other. Just like Miss Buford had described to them.

 

“ _Mama_!”


	8. Chapter 8

After several ecstatic minutes of celebration, everyone had brushed dust off themselves and settled in the living room while Miss Buford phoned her office. Fortunately, one of her colleagues was working late and was able to get things in motion to make their claim and to let her know exactly how much money they’d won.

 

Jack felt more on edge than he had all evening. She’d said before that they’d won a ‘significant amount’. How much was that? A few weeks ago Mama had worked out that a little over twenty thousand dollars would set them in the black, or at least get them to a point where paying off their debts was realistic. Would their winnings be enough to cover that?

 

He glanced over at his Mama. She was sitting in her armchair, smiling but tense. Dr Atieno was perched on the chair arm, his hands on her shoulders, talking to her softly. He was a good man, Jack acknowledged. All that mess yesterday hadn’t been his fault.

 

Over on the window seat, Mr and Mrs McElgar were holding hands, leaning their heads together, so comfortable with each other after all the years they’d been married. Jack felt a little pang of jealousy, but pushed it away. He couldn’t cope with it right now.

 

Out in the hallway, Miss Buford said goodbye to her colleague and snapped her cell phone shut, then opened the door to the living room, a big smile on her face. In her hand was a reporter’s notebook, which she handed to Jack’s Mama before taking a seat.

 

“My friend got the sum from the system. That right there is the amount you’ll receive from your ticket,” she told them, pointing at the notebook page.

 

Jack leaned over his Mama’s shoulder as she fumbled her glasses on and looked at the page. In amongst a load of scribbles was a number, underlined several times.

 

$196.638

 

“It’s pretty exact. Our accounting department is a little too serious sometimes,” Miss Buford said brightly.

 

They’d gone through all that for less than two hundred dollars? All of a sudden Jack wanted to scream and cry and throw himself on the floor...but his Mama? She was smiling. Really smiling.

 

He looked again, wondered why Miss Buford had put three digits for the cents rather than two.

 

Then he realised; that wasn’t a decimal point, it was a _comma_.

 

He had to say it aloud, couldn’t keep it in. “O-one hundred and ninety six...”

 

“Thousand dollars,” his Mama concluded.

 

Miss Buford leaned forward in her seat. “Will that help?” she asked.

 

*

 

Three days later, the money was in their bank account.

 

Two hours after that, Jack and his Mama shook hands with the bank manager, having made arrangements to pay off the last of their debts, and set off to take the McElgar’s out for dinner.

 

The day after that, Dr Atieno took Jack’s Mama into the city to talk to a specialist who was going to be in charge of her surgery. While they were away, Jack called the adult education centre in Green Meadow to talk about getting his GED.

 

And the day after that, he and Mr McElgar went out in the McElgar’s truck to buy lumber, and then they built Goldie the best damn coop a goose could wish for. While they were out in the yard, Jack’s Mama was being taken to a cafe in town by a reporter from the Green Meadow Gazette to talk about her win, an appointment from which she returned ebullient and giggling.

 

Life was good, everything was going so well it almost felt impossible. Their problems were solved, their fears dissipated, their hopes realised.

 

Except that Jack was...pining may not have been too strong a word. He really, truly was pleased, to keep his home, to ensure his Mama’s health, to have a real future in front of him.

 

But every now and then, over the course of the days that followed their win, his thoughts would drift away, his breathing would become shallow, as his mind turned to Finn. He’d come back to himself with his Mama or somebody waving their hand in front of his face, looking worried. It was getting weird.

 

But Finn was...it was hard to even think, but Finn was the only man person he’d ever felt so strongly about, and he couldn’t see him. Okay, so Finn hadn’t told him to _never_ go up the tree again, but he’d more or less said that...that caring about Jack and not being able to...well, it _hurt_ him.

 

Jack didn’t ever want to hurt Finn.

 

So that meant he probably shouldn’t go back. Nobody had said ‘not ever’, but...

 

He didn’t know what to do.

 

*

 

About three weeks after their win, Jack’s Mama went into hospital for an overnight stay, to monitor her breathing while she slept and to do a few tests in preparation for the surgery that, hopefully, would fix the problems with her lungs.

 

It wasn’t a scary thing, they were both hopeful and happy. But it was the first night that Jack had been alone in the house since his Dad had been alive and he and Mama used to go out on dates. And though he could do a pretty good job of poaching a goose egg, he couldn’t really do meals. He got the Cookery Course down from the shelf and began flipping through the pages, looking for something he could manage.

 

An hour later he got to the back cover and swore.

 

Then he realised he was an idiot. They had money now. And yeah, they were being careful with it, but there was careful and then there was dumb. And hungry!

 

So, having checked that Goldie was safe and sound, he went out for take-out. It had been too long since he’d tasted mono-sodium glutamate.

 

*

 

Finn was lonely.

 

No idea how many years he’d been up here alone, never lonely, just getting along with farming and eating and living. But it wasn’t until Jack had gone that he felt lonely.

 

Maybe once every day or so, sometimes less, he would pinch up a little grain and go out of his door to call for Goldie, then feel like a fool for forgetting she was gone, but...

 

It was once, perhaps more, an _hour_ that he thought of something he wanted to say to Jack, some little thing to share with him, and those times he didn’t feel foolish. Oh no, those times he was too busy feeling bereft.

 

Of course, he hadn’t told Jack to _never_ come to visit him, but after their last meeting he wondered if he would see him again. He wondered if it would be too terrible if he never saw Jack again, if he could just keep hold of him as a lovely memory and continue living out his life on his little farm.

 

But if he never saw Jack again, he’d always wonder: was he happy? Was he still working the way he did or did he figure out some way to make a living? Was he...had he maybe met somebody? Someone to be content with?

 

And with those thoughts came ones from the other end of the scale. What if he was hurt? What if he was still being stalked by that asshole who tried to attack him? What if he was trapped in his miserable life, slowly dying inside as each chance for escape passed him by or evaded him, that sweet man fading away until nothing was left but a shell...

 

What if he died?

 

These nightmarish thoughts plagued him until his head spun, left him standing in his field, staring into space. For days this had been happening, he felt like a wreck.

 

Eventually he gave up on his day’s work and went back into his house.

 

The door closed behind him with a hollow sounding click, the familiar noise of the stupid little letter slot snapping shut. He hated that damned thing, was sure that that man had just added it to the door to torment him.

 

He stopped and looked around the small space. Something didn’t feel...

 

“Where’s the goose?”

 

“Argh!”

 

Finn felt his legs go weak with shock, but he managed to turn around, and there he was. The man in green. Just...standing there, near the door frowning, with his arms folded. He was as small as Jack.

 

Finn had often wondered what he’d do to the man if he ever saw him again, whether he’d shout or threaten or trap him, or even just _stamp_ on him...He didn’t do anything. Just stared.

 

“I asked you a question, didn’t I,” he said in that unpleasantly familiar, condescending tone. “ _Where_ is the goose that I brought you?”

 

Finn bristled “I gave her to a friend. I could hardly let her live out her life in this miserable place could I.”

 

The man raised his eyebrows, but didn’t look like he was really surprised. Cagey bastard. Hands behind his back, he began to pace back and forth in front of the door. “When I brought that animal here, I told you something about her, do you remember what that was Finn?”

 

“You told me that her eggs were...I don’t remember what you said exactly. Something about them being lucky.”

 

“Hmm. I told you that they were worth their weight in gold. But yes, you were right. They bring good fortune to people. Had you eaten one, your crops would have grown extravagantly, the weather around you would have been perfect. Perhaps you would have even found your way back to the rest of the world. But you never did. You never even tried to. Can you tell me why?”

 

Finn pursed his lips and looked away. He couldn’t answer a question like that.

 

“I’ll tell you, shall I?” the man continued. “It’s because you knew you didn’t deserve that good fortune. You understood why you were here, and you accepted your fate. Am I right Finn? Is that why you ignored all of the goose’s eggs?”

 

Finn could only stare at him. He couldn’t speak, there was a lump blocking his throat.

The man watched his face fixedly.

 

“I wasn’t sure what would happen when I sent that young man up here,” he mused. “But it looks like it turned out for the best. You _gave_ him the goose.”

 

Finn nodded stiffly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

“You gave that young man the only chance you had to leave. You...felt sorry for him?”

 

The lump in Finn’s throat dissolved, and he managed to choke out the words; “I l-love him.”

 

“Hm. And so you put his needs before your own. An act of generosity. Not something you’re accustomed to, so I suppose it’s no wonder you sound nervous.”

 

Finn flinched. He was right, he was right about everything. He didn’t deserve good fortune or a chance to escape, he didn’t even deserve Jack. But Jack had given him such happiness, so he gave back the only thing he could.

 

“It paid off, you know? She laid some of those wonderful eggs that led Jack to better fortunes.” He paused and gazed around the shack thoughtfully. “I’ve been waiting for this, you realise that Finn? I’ve been waiting for proof. Proof that you’ve learned. Proof that you’ve changed. Proof that, were you put back in the greater world, you wouldn’t be one of these creatures that exists only for strife.”

 

Finn felt dazed and shook his head to try and bring his vision back into focus. And when he had...he was staring straight into the man’s eyes. Straight into them. He was naked, his clothing lay around him on the floor. He was too small for them now. He hadn’t even felt it happen, but it was undeniable. He was back to normal.

 

“I have my proof,” the man said, with an air of finality, of ceremony. “Now, you may return.”

 

*

 

Jack strolled easily through the muggy dusk, listening to the sounds of the town as it would down for the night, the strains of music from restaurants and bars he passed as they got ready for the evening ahead.

 

Already he felt different here. Not like the town whore, the town’s shame, not anymore. It wasn’t like he’d announced that he was stopping working like that or anything, but it seemed like people knew. The glances he got in the street were no longer accusing or disgusted, nobody deliberately turned their faces from him as they passed for fear of being associated with him.

 

He felt like he was walking through his home town, rather than running a gauntlet. Of course, it could have been his mindset...which he wouldn’t have minded. He felt better about almost everything these past few days.

 

He walked by one of his usual (no longer) haunts, which already had a small but noisy crowd inside, and wondered briefly what would happen if he were to go in. Would the bartender kick him out? Would somebody proposition him? Or would he just buy a drink, talk a while with some guys or some girls and go on his way? A nice thought, but tonight wasn’t the night to try it out.

 

The scents of Chinese food drifted towards him as he approached the take-away place he was heading for. Night after night he’d walked past there and been almost driven crazy by the smell of the food; dinner tonight was going to be like a religious experience.

 

Just a hundred yards away from the doors when a car pulled up behind him, and this time he noticed it and turned before the driver got out. This time, he felt a shock of cold apprehension before he’d even fully turned.

 

Same driver as the last time it happened, only now he was carrying something, a shiny slice of metal in his right hand.

 

“Jack,” Mr Golightly said softly, “There’s some things I need to talk to you about.”

 

*

 

“R-return?”

 

“Yes,” the man in green replied, and turned back towards the door. He pushed open the letter slot and leaned out, and Finn realised with a flash of disappointment in his own reasoning, that that was what it had been for all along. It was _his_ door. The man came back in holding a small suitcase which he set on the floor and opened.

 

“Clothes,” he said simply, rising to his feet long enough to hand Finn a pile of folded fabric. Pants made of blue denim, the same kind that Jack wore, an undershirt and a shirt, socks, underwear. Still dumbstruck, he started to dress.

 

The man took a pair of shoes from the case and set them on the floor for him, then removed a cardboard folder and a folded piece of thick paper from the case, clipped it shut, and stood.

 

He waited for Finn to finish putting the clothes and shoes on, then opened the folder and removed a small booklet.

 

“Passport,” he said simply, handing it over. Finn looked inside and saw a small colour photograph of himself, along with a few details of faked but plausible information.

 

“Social security number, birth certificate,” he glanced dubiously at the last item, “driving license, more for show than use, at least at this point. The roads are busier than you’d remember.” He handed Finn these items in a little pile and watched as he tucked them into the pockets of his pants. That left the paper, which the man unfolded and stared at for a moment before turning it so that Finn could see the image on it. It was a map; roads and a pond, or maybe a lake, fields...bits of it seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. There was an expanse of woodland on the map, in the centre of which stood a strange looking tree, mostly a huge trunk, a little trail of dashes spiralling around it. A few leaf-bedecked branches stuck out from its top, ugly looking.

 

The man took a pen from the pocket of his ornate jacket and circled a small building. “Your lover’s house,” he stated simply. He then closed his eyes briefly and seemed to concentrate for half a minute or more, until Finn was feeling uneasy, so much so that he nearly jumped out of his skin when the eyes opened again. The man applied his pen to the map once more, marking a cross on a street that was nearly off the edge of the map, placing it roughly in the centre of the town.

 

“That’s where he is now, I expect you’ll want to go and find him,” he finished, handing the map over. Finn nodded weakly, still reeling. He wanted to ask so much, but he couldn’t find the words. He opened his mouth, still unsure of what would come out of it, when the man in green suddenly gasped, his eyes going wide.

 

“Something’s wrong,” he said softly. “Go to him.”

 

Finn clenched his hands into fists and felt his own breath hitch. “What-”

 

“Go!” the man in green snapped, and Finn went. Out the letter slot, along the path, feet pounding into the deep ridges of soil that he vaguely realised were his own footprints. The tree loomed ahead of him, terrifyingly tall after being a knee high stump for so long, but he didn’t slow his pace. He remembered what Jack had told him about the stairs, and before he could think twice about what he was heading into, he was hurtling down them, through opaque clouds, down towards the world at large.

 

*

 

No time to run this time, no time to even turn away. Because this time, Mr Golightly wasn’t drunk. This time he...Jack didn’t even know, but this time he seemed _crazy_.

 

He was on Jack before he could do anything, gripping the back of his shirt and shaking him hard, snarling out half formed words, spittle hitting the back of Jack’s ear as he struggled to get free. The knife was out of his frame of vision with Mr Golightly behind him, every muscle in his back taught as he waited to feel the blade break his skin.

 

“Help me!” the words tore out of his throat painfully, then a second later pain struck again as Mr Golightly hit him across the back of the head, and for a moment Jack wasn’t sure if it had been the blade or just his fist.

 

Movement at the edge of his awareness, but nobody was coming close.

 

“Hey man, you okay?” called a wary voice, a second before a foot struck the back of his legs and his knees hit the asphalt.

 

“Help me! He has a-”

 

Cut off by another blow to the head. People were running towards them now, hope flared in Jack’s chest, but then Golightly swung away from him, flinging out the arm with the knife.

 

“Get away!” he spat.

 

“Whoa!” cried the man behind them, and Jack heard somebody across the street yell something about the police...but there was a nick of metal against his throat, stopping his struggles dead, and he knew it would be too late.

 

And then, more running footsteps, these ones different, purposeful and distinct, a rush of movement and a grunt of effort above his head and Golightly’s weight was gone from his back and Jack was looking up at...

 

“Finn?!”

 

“Jackie, are you okay?” asked his worried voice, and Jack was being lifted to his feet by big warm hands under his arms.

 

“Oh God...” he breathed, head spinning. “You...”

 

“I know, I’ll explain it later. Are you hurt?” Finn asked, gently touching the bruised patch on the back of Jack’s head. He was...there! Just as he had been but regular sized. Well. No, he was still _really_ tall, Jack’s head only came up to his chin, but...

 

He was _here_!

 

A crowd was gathering now, keeping their distance but calling out enquiries as to Jack’s wellbeing. Jack ignored them in favour of sliding his arms around Finn’s chest, hanging onto him desperately, as he felt Finn’s arms hold him in return.

 

A police car roared down the street and Jack heard their little crowd yelling to whoever had climbed out of it, telling them about how ‘that guy on the floor’ had been about to stab ‘that blond guy’. Jack peeled himself far enough away from Finn to look back and see Mr Golightly, out cold on the floor, his nose crushed over to one side. He vaguely remembered a daydream about watching giant Finn squish the bastard underfoot. This was just as satisfying, and probably a lot tidier.

 

Police though...he wasn’t their favourite person.

 

“You okay sir?” an approaching officer asked, then he recoiled as he caught sight of Jack’s face. Crap, it was the guy he’d sucked off a couple of weeks back, the one who kept yelling his ex girlfriend’s name.

 

“I-I’m okay,” he stammered, turning in the circle of Finn’s arms. “He just, he had a-”

 

“That same guy went for that kid once before, pushed him down. I saw it!” somebody else yelled, and Jack saw that it was one of the two men who’d come out of the bar the last time Mr Golightly had attacked him.

 

“Well, I-” the police officer was cut off by another person calling out:

 

“What are you looking at him like that for? Aren’t you listening? He’s the victim!”

 

Jack’s heart jumped in his chest. These people, they weren’t his enemy. They weren’t out to get him. All this time it had felt like it, but he was just under their radar, they didn’t have the time to hate him, they were just...living. He felt like a fool for his paranoia all this time, and pressed himself back against Finn’s chest, so damn grateful for his presence. Suddenly, all he wanted was to be alone with him, to go somewhere quiet and just hold him, tell him about everything that had been happening, hear what had happened to him.

 

The police officers had calmed the crowd and one of them, not the one Jack had been with but the other one, turned to him with a sympathetic expression.

 

“I understand you’ve had quite a shock. Do you need to go to hospital?”

 

Jack took stock for a moment, then shook his head. “I think I need an ice pack and some aspirin, but I’m okay,” he offered worriedly.

 

“Alright then. We’re going to arrest the man who attacked you and take him to the hospital. We’ll need to take statements from you and your friend here. We can do that tomorrow.”

 

He looked up at Finn and that was when Jack realised that the slight pressure he felt on the top of his head was Finn’s chin. His hands were warm on Jack’s shoulders. “I believe you were the one who struck the attacker sir?”

 

“Yes,” Finn replied, his voice sounding wary. “Don’t tell me you’re going to arrest me for protecting Jack here from being stabbed?”

 

“No, no,” the police officer blurted, having seen something in Finn’s face fit to alarm him. “I need to know your details too sir. That’s all.”

 

From a pocket, Finn pulled out a driver’s license and handed it over. As the officer was jotting down the details from it, the ambulance pulled up and two paramedics got out to lift Mr Golightly into it, the other police officer hovering nearby in case he awoke. There was quite a crowd in the street now, it was probably the most interesting thing that had happened in Eastgate in years.

 

Finally, _finally_ , they were told they could go. The police officer would come by Jack’s house the next day (which it seemed was given as the address on Finn’s license) but until then they were to see to Jack’s wounds and stay put.

 

Absolutely fine by Jack. He couldn’t wait to get Finn home and grill him. And learn where the hell he’d got a driver’s license from!

 

Grabbing Finn’s hand, he led him past the crowd at a run, then cut through the streets as fast as his feet would carry him, Finn keeping pace easily right behind him. At last, his feet touched the narrow path that led back towards home, and Jack slowed and stopped.

 

“Are you okay?” they both said at the same time. Jack felt his lips tighten with shock and relief, and could only nod silently. Finn stroked a hand over Jack’s hair and shivered, his fingertips barely touching the sore spot on the back of Jack’s head.

 

“The man in green came back, Jackie. All this time, he’s been waiting for me to pass some kind of test, and when I gave you Goldie, it seems...well, I’ll explain it another time. We should get you home, right? That bastard hit you a couple of times, didn’t he.”

 

There was a brief flash of anger in his eyes and he clenched his right fist, the one he’d punched Mr Golightly with.

 

“I’ll be alright,” Jack replied. “I just...” he didn’t know what else to say. There was just too much and he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he took Finn’s right hand in his own and turned it to look at the red knuckles, the little bloody spot on the middle one. He raised it to his mouth and put a little kiss there.

 

With a gasp, Finn tightened his fingers around Jack’s, using the grasp to draw him closer. Carefully, nervously, they craned their faces towards each other, until their lips met. Brief and worried, but very sweet. Jack looked at their clasped hands, then up at Finn’s troubled face and couldn’t help but smile. He shook his hands free and reached up to stretch them around Finn’s shoulders.

 

“Come here,” he said softly, and Finn obediently leaned down towards him, wrapping his arms around Jack as their mouths met properly.

 

The few times Jack had been kissed, it had been a choice between brief and perfunctory or slobbery and proprietary. This however...

 

Finn’s lips were firm and warm and just a little chapped, mobile and tender against his own. At the barest hinting touch of Jack’s tongue, he opened his mouth and let him in, lapping gently at the inside of Jack’s lower lip, tilting his head to allow Jack deeper access to his mouth. Jack felt sublime, like he was floating, like his feet had left the ground. Nothing had ever been so wonderful as this, nothing so perfect. Having Finn in his arms felt like the realisation of every lonely dream, every half-formed longing.

 

After long minutes they drew back from one another, staring into one another’s eyes. A moment of silly shyness, until Finn smiled broadly, and Jack found himself grinning at him.

 

“I felt like I was flying,” he told him, feeling his cheeks redden.

 

“Really?” Finn replied impishly. An instant later, Jack’s feet were off the ground as Finn hefted him up into his arms.

“Let’s fly you home then, Jackie,” he said cheerfully, and set off along the path at a jog, keeping a firm grip on Jack as he laughed in his arms.

 

*

 

The house always felt strange without Mama there. Even stranger was the fact that Finn was seeing it for the first time, wandering through the door after Jack and following him as he made his way through the house to the kitchen, turning on lights as he went. Finn seemed to be studying everything, every piece of furniture and item of decor he passed, with intense interest. Of course, Jack should have expected that, the man had never seen the inside of a modern house.

 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his mind turning to wonder what they had in. Surely there was at least enough to make sandwiches.

 

But Finn shook his head. “No, I’m just happy to be here. I can’t even tell you-” His voice had become tight with the last few words, and he abruptly reached out and drew Jack into his arms, squeezing him tightly. Jack held onto Finn’s firm torso and felt the hitches of emotion rattling in his chest. After some minutes, he came to a decision and slipped out of Finn’s embrace.

 

“Come with me,” he told him softly, taking Finn’s hand and leading him out of the kitchen, down the hallway to his own little bedroom.

 

He spared a moment to feel embarrassed about the pictures stuck on the walls, about the little glass mobile hanging from the ceiling, catching the thin shaft of moonlight that was shining in through the window. But Finn just looked around the room and smiled broadly, reached out to smooth his palm over the soft bedclothes. Jack reached out for him again, drew him close and kissed him, putting all the heat, all the passion he could into it, so that when they broke apart this time, there was no doubt between them about what he wanted.

 

“That’s not...uh...” Finn began, looking over at the bed. Jack followed his gaze and realised that he had a point: it was far too small for Finn, let alone both of them, at least for them to do anything energetic on it. The box spring was too high, they’d brain themselves on the floor if they fell off.

 

“Hang on,” Jack told him. He lifted the sheets and grabbed the edge of the mattress, tugged on it hard. Finn got the picture and helped him to pull it onto the floor, then shook up and spread out the pillows while Jack laid out the bedclothes.

 

“At least if we fall off the edge, we won’t hurt ourselves,” he said.

 

“Clever, Jackie,” Finn replied and pulled him in for another kiss. This time, he slid his hands up inside Jack’s shirt, rubbing is warm, rough palms up and down his back, lifting Jack’s shirt up higher with every stroke. Jack shivered, feeling weak with arousal from even that simple touch. He could feel Finn’s shoulders shaking slightly and was suddenly profoundly glad that he wasn’t alone in feeling so turned on, so nervous. This was as important to Finn as it was to him.

 

Finn finally swept Jack’s shirt up and off, breaking their kiss to lift it over his head, then stood still while Jack unbuttoned his shirt before slipping it and the undershirt off.

 

“You look good in the jeans,” Jack told him shyly, reaching up to pet at his chest hair.

 

“You just look...good,” Finn told him in return, running his hands up Jack’s long slim arms, onto his sturdy shoulders. Jack smiled brilliantly at him, then with what he felt must be a visible effort of will, he pulled himself away and sat down in the middle of the mattress. He took off his shoes and socks, tossing them through the dimness in the direction of his desk, then unbuttoned his own jeans and lifted his hips to pull them down around his thighs.

 

As he was wriggling his legs out of them, Finn thumped down to sit at his side, plucking hurriedly at his shoelaces. By the time Jack was naked, he was still struggling with them.

 

“How long since you’ve worn shoes?” Jack asked, trying and failing to hide the laughter in his voice.

 

Finn gave him a mock-pitiful look. “I don’t even know!” he whined, and Jack reached over to help him, cooing sympathy. Once divested of the shoes, Finn gleefully flung off the rest of his clothes, managing to land his underwear dangling off the lamp. Jack broke up laughing at that, so much so that he ended up curled up on a ball, Finn’s laughter mingling with his own as he tipped Jack over onto his side and flopped on top of him.

 

This was so much fun! Who knew?

 

Squirming out from underneath him, Jack knelt to pull open the drawer of his nightstand and took out a couple of the little packets of lubricant he kept there, and a roll of condoms. Finn peered curiously over his shoulder at the items.

 

“Have you ever had a V.D.?” Jack asked.

 

Finn shook his head. Jack looked at the condoms thoughtfully; he’d never done it without them, he’d said that he never would. But so much had just changed, and right now he didn’t want even that much to come between them. He tossed the condoms into the drawer and crawled back onto the mattress with Finn, then looped his arms around Finn’s chest and tipped sideways so they both ended up lying on their sides. They lay like that for a while, kissing, the lube packets prickling the palm of Jack’s hand as he gripped them.

 

They opened their eyes and lay there, staring at each other. The moonlight hit Finn’s face perfectly, the handsome shape of his jaw, the dark, shaggy mass of his hair.

 

“What exactly do you want to do?” he asked.

 

Jack felt his face grow warm. Unaccustomed to being able for ask for what he wanted, he found the words wouldn’t come, not until his hid his face against Finn’s throat.

 

“Make love to me?” he asked.

 

For a second, he thought it had been too quiet for Finn to hear, he was so still. But then he was rolled onto his back, his face and his hair tenderly stroked, as Finn whispered his name over and over.

 

Shaken, Jack managed to coordinate his hands well enough to get a packet of lube open. Finn noticed his movements and watched, apparently fascinated, as Jack squeezed the glistening gel out onto his fingers. He made room on the mattress, keeping his hands on Jack’s torso as Jack rolled onto his side, pulled up one leg and reached behind himself, easing his fingers into his ass to open himself up.

 

An excited little huff of breath from Finn, and he slid his own hand down to join Jack’s, caressing his buttocks before pulling Jack’s fingers out of the way so he could slip his own into place. Jack moaned and grabbed at his cock, convinced for an instant that he would come. He held on though, gasping as Finn’s fingers spread gently inside him.

 

He wrenched the other packet of lube open, clumsily splattering the gel over his hands, and reached out to spread it on Finn. Finn twitched as Jack touched the hot skin of his cock, and it was clear to Jack why: he was as hard as iron, he must feel desperate.

 

That made two of them.

 

Reaching back to grab Finn’s wrist, Jack shifted to lie back, using his grip to draw Finn over on top of him, raising his legs to wrap them around his lover’s waist. A passionate kiss as they pressed their bodies close, then Finn was sliding his hand up the back of Jack’s thigh, pushing his leg up and raising himself on his elbow.

 

“Ready?” he asked softly.

 

Jack smiled up at him. “Never readier,” he replied.

 

All the other times were a million miles away, like they’d all happened to somebody else. Finn slid inside him so easily, so perfectly, it was like they were made to fit together, like they’d been created as one and cut apart, only to make their way back to one another.

 

Jack cried out and had to shut his eyes, taken aback by the shocking intimacy of the feel of skin inside of him. Finn’s strong body moved like rippling water above him, his breath bathing Jack’s face, his gleaming eyes boring into Jack’s.

 

It was like heaven.

 

He knew from the start that neither of them was going to last long, and once Finn’s hand slipped between them and carefully grasped Jack’s erection, he knew it was more or less over. He wrapped himself as tightly as he could around his lover and cried out as his orgasm welled through and out of him, leaving him weak and gasping.

 

Finn followed him quickly, whimpering harshly in his throat, and Jack once again felt the uncanny thrill of new sensation as Finn’s warm come flooded into him.

 

They clung to each other as they shivered their way back down, sweaty and shaking in the dark. Long minutes passed, before Jack realised that the liquid dribbling down his neck, where Finn had his face tucked, was not sweat.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice raw, lifting Finn’s head so he could see his face. His red, tear streaked face.

 

“I-I love you,” Finn gasped out. “I love you Jackie.”

 

“It’s okay, don’t cry.” Jack soothed, petting Finn’s hair. “I love you too.”


	9. Chapter 9

The rising sun found them snuggled together on the mattress, barely covered by a crumpled sheet, the warmth between their bodies having kept them comfortable through the night.

 

The scene would have been idyllic, had it not been for the angry goose honking up a storm outside the window.

 

Jack groaned and got up, motioning for Finn to stay put, then dragged on his bathrobe and shuffled out into the yard to put down food for Goldie. She eyed him irritably as he did so.

 

“I’m sorry breakfast is late,” he told her. “But I think you’ll find that these are unusual circumstances.”

 

When he got back into the kitchen, Finn was standing there in his jeans and nothing else, figuring out the taps to fill a glass with water.

 

“Is there a cloth?” he asked, peering around near the sink. “I’d like to wash.”

 

And so it was that Jack introduced Finn to the wonders of a 21st century bathroom, and the equal wonder of water conservation through shared bathing.

 

By the time Jack’s Mama returned home from her stay in the hospital, the two of them were clean, dressed and fed, sitting on the back lawn, playing with Goldie. She had come through the house looking for Jack, and stood in the kitchen doorway, surprised to see he had company.

 

“Mama!” Jack cried, jumping to his feet. He rushed up and hugged her, asked if she was okay. She nodded distractedly.

 

“Who’s your friend, sweetie?” she asked, a slight tinge of worry in her voice that made Jack feel horribly guilty. He turned to see Finn getting to his feet, a nervous expression on his face.

 

“Mama, I’ve been wanting to introduce you for a long time...as long as I’ve known him. But I haven’t had chance before and...and it just didn’t seem right, you know?”

 

She looked puzzled for a moment, then light seemed to dawn.

 

“Jack, you-”

 

“Mama, this is my boyfriend, Finn.”

 

Finn approached and held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ma’am,” he said stiffly.

 

They shook, as Jack’s Mama looked him up and down carefully, considering. Jack held his breath.

 

Finally: “You call me Helena, dear. I’m so pleased to meet you.” And Jack breathed again.

 

“Mama, can I have a word with you?” he asked, leading her gently back into the house.

 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

 

“Nothing Mama, everything’s great,” he replied, seeing her face light up as she realised that he meant it. “Thing is, Finn’s just moved here and he’s looking for a job, but I thought I’d tell him he could stay with us for a while. Would that be okay?”

 

His Mama seemed to think carefully, but as always she came to her final decision quickly and keenly. “That should be fine Jack. He seems like a nice young man.”

 

“Thanks Mama.” He hadn’t told Finn about this idea yet, but doubted that he’d have a problem with it.

 

“Another thing Mama, you know how you said we could afford to get ourselves a couple of little treats now?”

 

Her eyes twinkled. “Yes?”

 

“I...um, I’d like to buy a...a bigger bed.”

 

“A double?” He nodded. “I’m sure we can stretch to that Jack, you’ve needed a new bed for a while now anyway.”

 

“Thanks Mama” Jack replied, and bent to kiss her on the forehead. She beamed and cuddled him happily, and they both stood there in the kitchen for a little while, watching Finn play with Goldie.

 

Then Jack had an awful thought.

 

“Uh, Mama? There’s one more little thing...”

 

“What’s that, sweetie?”

 

“The police are going to come by later this afternoon.”

 

“Ja...w... _what_!?”

 

*

 

Jack came out of the veterinary surgery with a spring in his step, walked down the path to the sidewalk and clambered up onto the fence to sit and wait for his boyfriend.

 

The year that had passed since at all went down had been like a dream. It hadn’t taken long for Jack to get his GED, and now he was taking a long distance course with the city college to get his qualifications as a veterinary nurse. Dr Prince was letting him do some of his practical classes at the surgery and had promised him a job as soon as he’d passed the exams. Jack couldn’t wait.

 

The afternoon that he’d moved in with them, Finn had met Mr McElgar, who’d offered him a job on the spot. He’d needed another pair of hands, he’d said, and anyone who Jack would consider dating was obviously a person of good character, who could be trusted to pull his weight on an organic vegetable farm. Jack would have questioned his reasoning, if it hadn’t benefitted him so much. It turned out that he was right though; Finn took to the work like a duck to water. He had, after all, been farming organically for countless years, all on his own. The McElgars said he was their most valuable asset. He’d settled into the Bean household like he’d always been there, almost immediately as thick as thieves with Jack’s Mama. Jack sometimes wondered why he’d ever been so worried that day he’d first introduced them.

 

Jack’s Mama had had her surgery and made an excellent recovery. A few months later she’d found herself bored and restless, so much so that, even though they didn’t really need the extra income, she took a part time job at the library, which she loved. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoon at 3, she could be found in the children’s section, reading stories aloud to groups of excited kids, while the rest of her shifts were spent shelving books and helping customers find their favourite authors and look things up in the reference section. It was just her sort of work; useful and surrounded by people. She gave most of her wages to various charities, saying that, all things considered, she didn’t really need it.

 

Long after the necessity had passed, Dr Atieno had continued his regular visits to the house to check up on her. Soon though, he had to accept that nobody was falling for that excuse anymore, so he stopped bringing his medical bag along with him, and started bringing flowers instead. It turned out that all that talk with Jack in his office that one afternoon, about love and heartache, that had all been about Jack’s Mama. He’d known that she, as stubborn as she was, wouldn’t accept anything from him while she was in a situation where she’d end up relying on him. Jack would have told him that that was dumb, except he had a suspicion that he was right. They’d been dating for a while now. Jack had foolishly given up on seeing his Mama so happy again, and was very glad to have been proven wrong.

 

Jack and Finn were saving up for their own place and, once they’d managed it, they were pretty sure that Dr Atieno would move in with Jack’s Mama. Possibly, there’d be a wedding in the equation too.

 

Mr Golightly was in prison, his wife had moved away and remarried, and the people of the town had collectively denied all connection to him after the news of what he’d done to Jack had come out. Jack rarely thought of him anymore. In the bigger picture, he really didn’t matter, and Jack was too busy being happy to spare a thought for him these days.

 

And finally, Goldie. She still laid those magic eggs pretty regularly. Every now and then, Finn would use one to make pancakes or something and they’d all sit together and eat them. Most times though, Jack would get his Mama to bake them into cookies. Then they’d take the cookies to one of the wards in the nearest hospital for the patients to snack on, or to the weekly financial advice help desk at the library, for the people who were having troubles. The little town of Eastgate had never been so prosperous.

About two months ago, Finn and Jack had taken Goldie to visit a farm on the other side of town where she’d met and taken a shine to a handsome Canadian gander named Ringo, whom they’d promptly purchased and brought home. Just yesterday she’d laid a whole nestful of eggs, and Mr McElgar had told them they have goslings soon.

 

The afternoon was warm and bright, just like the day, exactly one year ago, when Miss Buford had turned up at their door and all their problems had been solved. That was what they were going out to celebrate tonight, the anniversary. Miss Buford and her fiancé were meeting them at the restaurant and Jack was waiting for the rest of their party. He hadn’t waited long before they appeared in the distance.

 

His Mama and Dr At- John, he had to get used to calling him (or maybe, someday, ‘Dad’) walked hand in hand on the narrow sidewalk, turning their heads to chat with the McElgars who strolled along behind them. And at the back of the little procession, towering above them, was Finn, handsome and cheerful, in the going-out clothes that Jack’s Mama had picked out for him. Jack hopped off the fence as they drew close and got hugged by everyone in a brief little brawl of merriment, and then they were off again, Jack and Finn in between the two other couples, arm in arm. Every now and then, his Mama would reach back without looking and touch his hand.

 

He remembered, not so long ago, seeing a couple of young men and an elderly lady, a relative he’d guessed, walking together in the street, and feeling pangs of jealousy. No jealousy anymore though, oh no.

 

He had everything he wanted.

 

Surrounded by his favourite people, he walked down the sunlit street with a light heart.

 

*

 

From the other side of the street, in the shadow of a silver birch, a man dressed in an ornate green suit watched the happy group go by. A satisfied smile briefly crossed his face, closely followed by a look of tender sadness...

 

Then he turned and walked away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.  
> This is the second story in my ‘Tales from the Woods’, based on fairy tales, the first being Little Red. I plan to do many more of these, and I’m sure Jack and possibly also Finn will pop up somewhere along the way.  
> My idea for Jack was originally to have him as a more jaded and bitter character who would be transformed by love, but once I added his Mama to the equation I realised that that wouldn’t work, and he became a gentle, optimistic but perhaps somewhat depressed and ashamed young man. It wasn’t difficult to write a romantic foil for his character, I knew from Jack’s personality that Finn would have to be kind, broad minded and honest, all of which neatly fell into place when I began writing the big lug.  
> Finn is named for Finn McCool, the giant of Irish legend who is said to have created Giant’s Causeway during an argument with another giant from Scotland. I kept the details of his past crimes and the era in which he first lived deliberately vague, as I wanted to make it clear that, away from the influences of wealth and social structure, he had changed so much that he virtually forgot any other way of being. Hence by the time he meets Jack, he is humble and introspective, even if some of his motives are mysterious, even to himself.  
> I very much enjoyed writing the secondary characters, in fact they are usually my favourite part of any story I write. I’m very aware when writing that, though my story is based in a town, it is hard to flesh out a settlement without going overboard on detail, or making it seem like the main characters are just wandering through crowds of faceless drones. Hence I was keen to add a few personalities into the mix, even Dr Prince who doesn’t even get to speak (and with a surname like that, you’d better believe he’s going to turn up again). Jack’s Mama was hard to get a handle on for a while: having grown up in a very matriarchal family, I don’t really know any women who are housewives, homemakers, stay-at-home- mothers, etc, so it was hard to write one, especially one who is now feeling adrift after the death of her husband. I was pleased with how Helena turned out though, and I was glad I added in the epilogue that she gets a job purely because she’s bored. I felt like it made perfect sense that now she’s overcome adversity and illness, she doesn’t want to become sedentary.  
> I realise that the beanstalk isn’t actually a beanstalk, which is why I didn’t put it in the title, but I did want to reference it somewhere, which is why I added Jack and Helena’s surname as Bean (I also like to think that that’s what the Green Man added as surname on Finn’s ID documents, because he’s a cheeky bugger). I also ended up giving it an aspect of Beauty and the Beast. I’ve already decided that I’m not going to write that story, or at least not as part of this series, and I decided that that was the best way to slashify this story. In the original tale, Jack visits the beanstalk three times and returns first with money, then a magic harp and finally with the goose that lays the golden eggs. I managed the money and the goose, but the harp was tricky as Finn basically lives in a hovel and it didn’t make sense for him to have musical instruments lying around, so I had Jack get the tune Finn had been whistling stuck in his head, which he found comforting.  
> If you’ve read Little Red too, you may have noticed that Red, Alex and Red’s Gramma all get a little mention in the first chapter. The village that Alex lives in, Hobart’s Field, and Gramma’s home town, Denebrook, both get a mention too, as well as the prosperous town of Green Meadow. As I see it, there are a cluster of smallish towns and a couple of little villages all surrounded by a huge expanse of woodland. They are connected to each other by roads, and there is a large, nameless city a few hours journey away. That’s about all I’m going to say on the setting for now though. I’ll let the stories flesh it out.  
> Thank you and goodnight,  
> DG


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